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;••••

THE

LAY

THE LAST MINSTREL

A POEM.

WALTER SCOTT, Esq.

«•

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME, PATERNOSTER'
ROW| AND A. CONSTABLE AND CO. EDINBURGH,

1805.

f ■

/ •

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

CHARLES,

EARL OF DALKEITH,

THIS

POEM

IS INSCRIBED BY

THE AUTHOR.

THE Poem now offered to the Public is intended to illustrate the
customs mid manners which anciently prevailed on the Borders of
England and Scotland. The inhabit an ts, living in a state partly
pastoral and partly warlike^ and combining habits of constant depre*
dation with the influence of a rude spirit of chivalry^ were often €»-
gaged in scenes highly susceptible of poetical ornament. As the de-
scription of scenery and manners was more the object of the Author^
than a combined and regular narrative, the plan of the ancient me-
trical romance was adopted, which allows greater latitude in this
respect than would be consistent with the dignity of a regular poem.
The same model offered other facilities, as it permits an occasional
alteration of measure, which, in some degree, authorises the changes
of rythm in the text. The machinery also, adopted from popular be-
lief, would have seemed puerile in a poem which did not partake of
the rudeness of the old ballad, or metrical romance.

For these reasons, the poem was put into the mouth of an ancient
Minstrel, the last of the race, who, as he is supposed to have sur-
vived the Revolution, might have caught somewhat of the refinement
of modern poetry, without losing the simplicity of his original model.
The date of the tale itself is about the middle of the \6th century,
when most of the personages actually flourished. The time occupied
by the action is three nights and three days.

THE

LAY

THE LAST MINSTREL.

CANTO FIRST.

INTRODUCTION

The way was long, the wind was cold.
The Minstrel was infirm and old;
His withered cheek, and tresses gray,
Seemed to have known a better day ;
The harp, his sole remaining joy.
Was carried by an orphan boy.
The last of all the Bards was he.
Who sung of. Border chivalry;
For, well-a-day! their date was fled.
His tuneful brethren all were dead ;
And he, neglected and oppressed.
Wished to be with them, and at rest.
No more, on prancing palfrey borne.
He carolled, light as lark at mom ;

No longer, courted and caressed.

High placed in hall, a welcome euest.

He poured, to lord and lady gay, •

The unpremeditated lay ;

Old times were changed, old manners gone,

A stranger filled the Stuarts' throne ;

The bigots of the iron time

Had called his harmless art a crime.

A wandering harper, scorned and poor.

He begged his bread from door to door ;

And tuned, to please a peasant's ear.

The harp, a King had loved to hear.

He passed where Newark's stately tower
Looks out from Yarrow's birchen bower :
The Minstrel gazed with wishful ey<
No humbler resting place was nigh.
With hesitating step, at last.
The embattled portal-arch he passed.

Whose ponderous grate, and massy bar.
Had oft rolled back the tide of war.
But never closed the iron door
Against the desolate and poor.
The Duchess* marked his weary pace,
His timid mien, and reverend face,
And bade her page the menials tell.
That they should tend the old man well :
For she had known adversity.
Though bom in such a high degree;
In pride of power, in beauty's bloom.
Had wept o*er Monmouth's bloody tomb !

When kindness had his wants supplied.
And the old man was gratified.
Began to rise his minstrel pride.

•

* Anne, Duchess of Buccleuch and Monmouth, representative of
the ancient Lords of Buccleuch, and widow of the unfortunate
James, Duke of Monmouth, who was beheaded in 1685.

And he began to talk, anon.

Of good Earl Francis*, dead and gone.

And of Earl Walter j*, rest him God !

A braver ne'er to battle rode :

And how full many a tale he knew.

Of the old warriors of Buceleuch ;

And, would the noble Duchess deign

To listen to an old man's strain.

Though stiff his hand, his voice though weak.

He thought even yet, the sooth to speak.

That, if she loved the harp to hear.

He could make music to her ear.

The humble boon was soon obtained ;
The aged Minstrel audience gained.
But, when he reached the room of state,

Where she, with all her ladies, sate,

* Francis Scot, earl of Buceleuch, father to the duchess,
t Walter, earl of Buceleuch, grandfather to the duchess, and a
celebrated warrior.

Perchance he wished his hoon denied ;
For, when to tune his harp he tried.
His trembling hand had lost the ease.
Which marks security to please;
And scenes, long past, of joy and pain.
Came wildering o'er his aged brain-
He tried to tune his harp in vain.
The pitying Duchess praised its chime.
And gave him heart, and gave him time.
Till every string's according glee
Was blended into harmony.
And then, he said, he would full fain
He could recal an ancient strain.
He never thought to sing again.
It was not framed for village churles.
But for high dames and mighty earls ;
He had played it to King Charles the Good,
When he kept court at Holyrood ;
And much he wished, yet feared, to try
The long-forgotten melody.

Amid the strings his fingers strayed,
And an uncertain warbling made
And oft he shook his hoary head.
Bat when he caught the measure wild.
The old man raised his face, and smiled ;
And lightened up his faded eye.
With all a poet's extacy !
In varying cadence, soft or strong,
He swept the sounding chords along;
The present scene, the future lot.
His toils, his wants, were all forgot ;
Cold diffidence, and age's frost.
In the full tide of song were lost.
Each blank, in faithless memory void.
The poet's glowing thought supplied ;
And, while his harp responsive rung,
'Twas thus the latest Minstrel sung.

THE

LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.

CANTO FIRST.

The feast was over in Branksome tower.

And the Ladye had gone to her secret bower ;

Her bower, that was guarded by word and by spell.

Deadly to hear, and deadly to tell —

Jesu Maria, shield us well !

No living wight, save the Ladye alone.

Had dared to cross the threshold stone.

II.

The tables were drawn, it was idlesse all ;

Knight, and page, and household squire,
Loitered through the lofty hall.

Or crowded round the ample fire.
The stag-hounds, weary with the chase.

Lay stretched upon the rushy floor.
And urged, in dreams, the forest race^

From Teviot-stone to £skdale-moor.

III.

Nine-and-twenty knights of fame

Hung their shields in Branksome Hall ;
Nine-and-twenty squires of name.

Brought them their steeds from bower to stall ;
Nine-and-twenty yeomen tall.
Waited, duteous, on them all :
They were all knights of mettle true.
Kinsmen to the bold Buccleuch.

IV.

Ten of them were sheathed in steel.
With helted sword, and spur on heel :
They quitted not their harness hright,
Neither hy day, nor yet by night :

They lay down to rest

With corslet laced.
Pillowed on buckler cold and hard ;

They carved at the meal

With gloves of steel.
And they drank the red wine through the helmet barred

Ten squires, ten yeomen, mail-clad men,
Waited the beck of the warders ten.
Thirty steeds, both fleet and wight.
Stood saddled in stable day and night,
Barbed with frontlet of steel, I trow.
And with Jedwood-axe at saddle bow.

A hundred more fed free in stall —
Such was the custom of Branksome Hall.

VI. ;,

Why do these steeds stand ready dight 1
Why watch these warriors, armed, by night 1
They watch to hear the blood-hound baying ;
They watch to hear the war-horn braying ;
To see St George's red cross streaming.
To see the midnight beacon gleaming ;

They watch against Southern force and guile,

Lest Scroope, or Howard, or Percy's powers.
Threaten Branksome' s lordly towers.
From Warkworth, or Naworth, or merry Carlisle.

VIL
Such is the custom of Branksome-Hall

Many a valiant knight is here ;
But he, the Chieftain of them all.
His sword hangs rusting on the wall.

Beside his broken spear.

Bards long shall tell.
How lord Walter fell !
WhcD startled burghers fled, afar.
The furies of the Border war ;
When the streets of high Dunedin
Saw lances gleam, and falchions redden,
And heard the slogan's * deadly yell —
Then the Chief of Branksome feU.

VIII.

Can piety the discord heal.

Or staunch the death-feud's enmity?
Can Christian lore, can patriot zeal,

Can love of blessed charity ?
No ! vainly to each holy shrine.

In mutual pilgrimage, they drew ;
Implored, in vsun, the grace divine

For chiefs, their own red falchions slew.

The war-cry, or gathering word, of a Border clan.

While Cessford owns the rule of Car,
While Ettrick boasts the line of Scott,

The slaughtered chiefs, the mortal jar,

The havoc of the feudal war.
Shall never, never be forgot !

IX.

In sorrow, o'er lord Walter*s bier.
The warlike foresters had bent;
And many a flower, and many a tear.

Old Teviot's maids and matrons lent :
But, o'er her warrior's bloody bier.
The Ladye dropped nor sigh nor tear !
Vengeance, deep-brooding o'er the slain.
Had locked the source of softer woe ;
And burning pride, and high disdain.

Forbade the rising tear to flow ;
Until, amid his sorrowing clan.

Her son lisped from the nurse's knee —
" And, if I live to be a man,

" My father's death revenged shall be !"

Then fast the mother s tears did seek
To dew the infant's kindling cheek.

All loose her negligent attire.

All loose her golden hair.
Hung Margaret o'er her slaughtered sire.

And wept in wild despair.
But not alone the hitter tear

Had filial grief supplied ;
For hopeless love, and anxious fear.

Had lent their mingled tide ;
Nor in her mother's altered eye
Dared she to look for sympathy.

Her lover, 'gainst her father's clan.
With Car in arms had stood.

When Mathouse hum to Melrose ran,
All purple with their hlood.

And well she knew, her mother dread.

Before lord Cranstoun she should wed,

Would see her on her dying hed;

XI.

Of noble race the Ladye came ;
Her father was a clerk of fame,

Of Bethune's line of Picardie :
He learned the art, that none may name.

In Padua, far beyond the sea.

Men said he changed his mortal frame

By feat of magic mystery ;
For when, in studious mood, he paced

St Kentigem's hall.
His form no darkening shadow traced

Upon the sunny wall !

XII.
And of his skill, as bards avow.

He taught that Ladye fair.
Till to her bidding she could bow

The viewless forms of air.
And now she sits in secret bower.
In old Lord David's western tower.

And listens to a heavy sound.

That moans the mossy turrets round.

Is it the roar of Teviot's tide.

That chafes against the scaur's* red side ?

Is it the wind that swings the oaks ?

Is it the echo from the rocks ?

What may it be, the heavy sound,

That moans old Branksome's turrets round ?

XIII.

At the sullen, moaning sound.

The ban-dogs bay and howl ;
And, from the turrets round.

Loud whoops the startled owl.
In the hall, both squire and knight

Swore that a storm was near.
And looked forth to view the night j

But the night was still and clear !

Scaur, a precipitous bank of earth.

XIV.

From the sound of Teviot's tide,
Chafing with the mountain's side,
From the groan of the wind-swung oak,
From the sullen echo of the rock.
From the voice of the coming storm.

The Ladye knew it well !
It was the Spirit of the Flood that spoke.

And he called on the Spirit of the Fell.

XV.

River Spirit.
" Sleepest thou, brother ]**

Mountain Spirit^

" Brother, nay-

On my hills the moon-beams play.
From Craik-cross to Skelfhill-pen,
By every rill, in every glen.
Merry elves, their morrice pacing,

To aerial minstrelsy.
Emerald rings on brown heath tracing,

Trip it deft and merrily.

Up, and mark their nimble feet !
Up, and list their music sweet \"

XVI.
RiYEB Spirit.
" Tears of an imprisoned maiden
Mix with my polluted stream ;
Margaret of Branksome, sorrow-laden.

Mourns beneath the moon's pale beam.
Tell me, thou, who viewest the stars.
When shall cease these feudal jars ?
What shall be the maiden's fate 1

Who shall be the maiden's mate 1

»t

XVII.

Mountain Spirit.
" Arthur s slow wain his course doth roll.
In utter darkness, round the pole ;
The Northern Bear lowers black and grim ;
Orion's studded belt is dim ;

Twinkliog faiht^ and distant far,
Shimmers through mist each planet star ;

III may I read their high decree :
But no kind influence deign they shower
On Teviot*s tide, and Branksome's tower,

Till pride be quelled, and love be free.

»>

XVIII.

The unearthly voices ceast.

And the heavy sound was still ;
It died on the river* s breast.

It died on the side of the hill —
But round Lord David's tower

The sound still floated near ;
For it rung in the Ladye*s bower.

And it rung in the Ladye's ear.
She raised her stately head.

And her heart throbbed high with pride :
" Your mountains shall bend.
And your streams ascend.

Ere Margaret be our foeman's bride !

XIX.

The Ladye sought the lofty hall.

Where many a bold retainer lay.
And, with jocund din, among them all.

Her son pursued his infant play.
A fancied moss-trooper, the boy

The truncheon of a spear bestrode,
And round the hall, right merrily,

In mimic foray* rode.
Even bearded knights, in arms grown old.

Share in his frolic gambols bore.
Albeit their hearts, of rugged mould.

Were stubborn as the steel they wore.

For the gray warriors prophesied.
How the brave boy, in future war.

Should tame the Unicorn's pride.
Exalt the Crescents and the Star'f'.

* Foray, a predatory inroad.

t Alluding to the armorial bearings of the Scotts and Cars.

The Ladye fdrgot her purpose high,
One moment, and no more ;

One moment gazed with a mother s eye.
As she paused at the arched door.

Then, from amid the armed train.

She called to her William of Deloraine.

A stark moss-trooping Scott was he,
As e'er couched border lance by knee.
Through Solway sands, through Tarras moss.
Blindfold, he knew the paths to cross ;
By wily turns, by desperate bounds.
Had baffled. Percy's best blood-hounds ;
In Eske, or Lid dell, fords were none,

But he would ride them one by one;
Alike to him was time, or tide,
December's snow, or July's pride ;

Alike to him was tide, or time.
Moonless midnight, or mattin prime.

Steady of heart, and stout of hand.
As ever drove prey from Cumberland ;
Five times outlawed had he b^en,

By England's king and Scotland's queen.

XXII.

" Sir William of Deloraine, good at need.
Mount thee on the wightest steed >
Spare not to spur, nor stint to ride,
Until thou come to fair Tweedside ;

And in Melrose's holy pile
Seek thou the Monk of St Mary's isle :
Greet the father well from me ;

■

Say^ that the fated hour- is come,

And to night he shall wat<jh with thee.
To win the treasure of the tomb :

For this will be St Michael's night.

And though stars be dim, the moon is bright j

Ahd the cross of bloody red

Will point to the graive of iJie mighty dead/'

}

XXIII.

" What he gives thee, see thou keep ;
Stay not thou for food or sleep.
Be it scroll, or he it hook.
Into, knight, thou must not look ;
If thou readest thou art lorn !
Better hadst thou ne'er been bom."

XXIV.

" O swiftly can speed my dapple-gray steed,
Who drinks of the Teviot clear ;

Ere break of day," the warrior 'gan say,
" Again will I be here :

And safer by none may thy errand be done.
Than, noble dame, by me ;

Letter nor line know I never a one.

Wer't my neck-verse at Hairibee*.

>»

* Hairibee, the place of executing the Border marauders at Car-
lisle. The neck-verse is the beginning of the 51st psalm, Miserere
mei, &c. anciently read by criminals claiming benefit of clergy.

XXV.

Soon in his saddle sate he fast,
And soon the steep descent he past ;
Soon crossed the sounding barbican *,
And soon the Teviot side he won.
Eastward the wooded path he rode;
Green hazels o'er his basnet nod :
He passed the Peel*|* of Goldiland,
And crossed old Borthwick*s roaring strand ;
Dimly he viewed the Moat-hill's mound,
Where Druid shades still flitted round :
In Hawick twinkled many a light ;
Behind him soon they set in night ;
And soon he spurred his courser keen
Beneath the tower of Hazeldean.

XXVI.

The clattering hoofs the watchmen mark ;
" Stand, ho! thou courier of the. dark."

* Barbican^ the defences of the outer gate of a feudal castle,
t Peely a Border tower.

" For Branksome, ho !** the knight rejoined.
And left the friendly tower behind.
He turned him now from Teviotside,

And, guided by the tinkling rill.
Northward the dark ascent did ride,
And gained the moor at Horsliehill ;
Broad on the left before him lay.
For many a mile, the Roman way*.

XXVII.

A moment now he slacked his speed,
A moment breathed his panting steed ;
Drew saddle-girth and corslet-band.
And loosened in the sheath his brand.
On Minto-crags the moon-beams glint.
Where Barnhill hewed his bed of flint ;
Who flung his outlawed limbs to rest.
Where falcons hang their giddy nest.
Mid cliffs from whence his eagle eye.
For many a league, his prey could spy ; .

* An ancient Roman road, crossing through part of Roxburghshire.

Cliffs doubling, on their echoes borne,
The terrors of the robber s horn ;
Cliffs which, for many a later year, ,
The warbling Doric reed shall hear.
When some sad swain shall teach the grove.
Ambition is no cure for love.

XXVIII.
Unchallenged, thence past Deloraine,
To ancient Ridd ell's fair domain,

Where Aill, from mountains freed,
Down from the lakes did raving come ;
Each wave was crested with tawny foam,

Like the mane of a chesnut steed.
In vain ! no torrent, deep or broad.
Might bar the bold moss-trooper's road.

At the first plunge the horse sunk low.
And the water broke o'er the saddle-bow ;

Above the foaming tide, I ween.

Scarce half the charger's neck was seen ;

For he was barded* from counter to tail.

And the rider was armed complete in mail ;

Never heavier man and horse

Stemmed a midnight torrent's force ;

The warrior s very plume, I say.

Was daggled by the dashing spray ;

Yet through good heart, and our Ladye*s grace.

At length he gained the landing place.

Now Bowden Moor the march-man won.
And sternly shook his plumed head.

As glanced his eye o'er Halidon*}*;
For on his soul the slaughter red.

* Barded, or barbed, applied to a horse accoutred with defen-
sive armour.

t Halidon-hilly on which the battle of Melrose was fought

Of that unhallowed morn arose.
When first the Scott and Car were foes ;
When royal James beheld the fray.
Prize to the victor of the day ;
When Home and Douglas, in the van.
Bore down Buccleuch's retiring clan,
Till gallant Cessford's heart-blood dear
Reeked on dark Elliot's Border spear.

In bitter mood he spurred fast^
And soon the hated heath was past ;
And far beneath,, in lustre wan.
Old Melros* rose, and fair Tweed ran;
Like some tall rock, with lichens gray,.
Seemed, dimly huge, the dark Abbaye^
When Hawick he passed, had curfew rung.
Now midnight lauds* were in Melrose sung.

* Lauds, the midnight service of the Catholic church.

The sound upon the fitful gale.

In solemn wise, did rise and fail.

Like that wild harp, whose magic tone

Is wakened by the winds alone :

Bat when Melrose he reached, 'twas* silence all;

He meetly stabled his steed in stall.

And sought the convent's lonely wall.

Here paused the harp ; and with its swell
The Master s fire and courage fell :
Dejectedly, and low, he bowed, •
And, gazing timid on the crowd.
He seemed to seek, in every eye,
If they approved his minstrelsy ;
And. diffident of present praise,
Somewhat he spoke of former days.
And how old age, and wandering long.
Had done his hand and harp some wrong;

The Duchess, and her daughters fair.
And every gentle lady there.
Each after each, in due degree.
Gave praises to his melody ;
His hand was true, his voice was clear,
And much they longed the rest to hear.
Encouraged thus, the Aged Man,
After meet rest, again began.

THB

LAY

THE LAST MINSTREL.

CANTO SECOND.

THE

LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.

CANTO SECOND.

_ f

If thou would'st view fair Melrose aright,
Go visit it by the pale moon-light ;
For the gay beams of lightsome day
Gild, but to flout, the ruins gray.
When the broken arches are black in night.
And each shafted oriel glimmers white ;
When the cold light's uncertain shower
Streams on the ruined central tower ;

When buttress and buttress, alternately.

Seem framed of ebon and ivory ;

When silver edges the imagery,

And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die ;

When distant Tweed is heard to rave.

And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave ;

Then go— but go alone the while —

Then view St David's ruined pile ;

And, home returning, soothly swear.

Was never scene so sad and fair !

II.

Short halt did Deloraine make there;
Little recked he of the scene so fair.
With dagger's hilt, on the wicket strong.
He struck full loud, and struck full long.
The porter hurried to the gate —
'•* Who knocks so loud, and knocks so late?
" From Branksome I," the warrior cried ;
And strait the wicket opened wide :

For Branksome's chiefs had in battle stood,
To fence the rights of fair Meh'ose ;

And lands and livings, many a rood.

Had gifted the shrine for their souls repose.

III.
Bold Deloraine his errand said ;
The porter bent his humble head ;
With torch in hand, and foot unshod.
And noiseless step, the path he trod ;
The arched cloisters, far and wide.
Rang to the warrior's clanking stride ;
Till, stooping low his lofty crest.
He entered the cell of the ancient priest.
And lifted his barred aventayle *,
To hail the Monk of St Mary's aisle.

Aventayle, visor of the helmet

IV.

" The Ladye of Branksome greets thee by me ;

Says, that the fated hour is come,
And that to-night I shall watch with thee.

To win the treasure of the tomb."
From sackcloth couch the Monk arose.

With toil his stiffened limbs he reared ;
A hundred years had flung their snows

On his thin locks and floating beard.

V.
And strangely on the knight looked he.

And his blue eyes gleamed wild and wide ;
" And, darest thou, warrior ! seek to see.

What heaven and hell alike would hide 1
My breast, in belt of iron pent.

With shirt of hair and scourge of thorn ;
For threescore years, in penance spent.

My knees those flinty stones have worn :

Yet all too little to atone

For knowing what should ne*er be known.
Would'st thou thy every future year

In ceaseless prayer and penance drie.
Yet wait thy latter end with fear —

Then, daring warrior, follow me !"

VI.
" Penance, father, will I none ;
Prayer know I hardly one ;

For mass or prayer can I rarely tarry.

Save to patter an Ave Mary,

When I ride on a Border foray :

Other prayer can I none ;

So speed me my errand, and let me begone.

VII.

Again on the Knight looked the Churchman old.

And again he sighed heavily ;
For he had himself been a warrior bold.

And fought in Spain and Italy.

And he thought on the days that were long since bye.

When his limbs were strong, and his courage was high;

Now, slow and faint, he led the way.

Where, cloistered round, the garden lay ;

The pillared arches were over their head.

And beneath their feet were the bones of the dead.

VIII.

Spreading herbs and flowerets bright.
Glistened with the dew of night ;
Nor herb nor floweret glistened there.
But was carved in the cloister arches as fair.
The Monk gazed long on the lovely moon,

Then into the night he looked forth ;
And red and bright the streamers light
Were dancing in the glowing north.
So had he seen, in fair Castile,

The youth in glittering squadrons start ;
Sudden the flying jennet wheel.
And hurl the unexpected dslrt.

He knew, by the streamers that shot so bright,
That spirits were riding the northern light.

IX.

By a steel-clenched postern door.

They entered now the chancel tall ;
The darkened roof rose high aloof

On pillars lofty, and light, and small ;
The keystone, that locked each ribbed aisle.
Was a fleur-de-lys, or a quatre-feuille ;
The corbells* were carved grotesque and grim ;
And the pillars, with clustered shafts so trim.
With plinth and with capital flourished around.
Seemed bundles of lances which garlands had
bound.

Full many a scutcheon and banner, riven,
Shook to the cold night-wind of heaven,

* CorbellSy the projections from which the arches spring, usually
cut into a fantastic face, or mask.

Around the screened altar's pale ;
And there the djring lamps did burn,
Before thy low and lonely urn,
O gallant chief of Otterhurne,

And thine, dark knight of Liddesdale !
O fading honours of the dead !
O high ambition, lowly laid !

XI.

The moon on the east oriel shone.
Through slender shafts of shapely stone.

By foliaged tracery combined ;
Thou would'st have thought some fairy's hand,
'Twixt poplars straight, the osier wand.

In many a freakish knot, had twined ;
Then framed a spell, when the work was done.
And changed the willow wreaths to stone.
The silver light, so pale and faint.
Shewed many a prophet and many a saint.

Wl^^se image on the glass was dyed ;
Full in the midst, his cross of red
Triumphant Michael brandished.

And trampled the apostate's pride.
The moon-beam kisse.d the holy pane.
And threw on the pavement a bloody stain.

XII.

They sate them down on a marble stone

(A Scottish monarch slept below) ;
Thus spoke the Monk, in solemn tone —

" I was not always a man of woe ;
For Paynim countries I have trod.
And fought beneath the cross of God ;
Now, strange to my eyes thine arms appear.
And their iron clang sounds strange to my ear.

XIII.

" In these far climes, it was my lot
To meet the wondrous Michael Scott ;

A wizard of such dreaded fame, ^

That when, in Salamanca's cave.
Him listed his magic wand to wave.

The hells would ring in Notre Dame !
Some of his skill he taught; to me ;
And, warrior, I could say to thee,
The words that clove Eildon hills in three.

And hridled the Tweed vnth a curb of stone :
But to speak them were a deadly sin ;
And for having hut thought them my heart vnthin,

A treble penance must be done.

XIV.

" When Michael lay on his dying bed.

His conscience was awakened ;

He bethought him of his sinful deed,

And he gave me a sign to come with speed :

I was in Spain when the morning rose, .

But I stood by his bed ere evening close.

The words may not again be said.
That he spoke to me, on death-bed laid ;
They would rend this Abbaye's massy nave,
And pile it in heaps above his grave.

XV.
" I swore to bury his mighty book.
That never mortal might therein look ;
And never to tell where it was hid.
Save at his chief of Branksome's need ;
And when that need was past and o'er.
Again the volume to restore.
I buried him on St Michael's night.
When the bell tolled one, and the moon was bright;
And I dug his chamber among the dead.
Where the floor of the chancel was stained red.
That his patron's cross might over him wave.
And scare the fiends from the vnzard's grave.

XVI.

** It was a night of woe and dread.
When Michael in the tomb I laid !

Strange sounds along the chancel past ;

The banners waved without a blast" —

— Still spoke the Monk, when the bell tolled one !

I tell you, that a braver man

Than William of Deloraine, good at need.

Against a foe ne'er spurred a steed ;

Yet somewhat was he chilled with dread.

And his hair did bristle upon his head.

XVII.

" Lo, warrior ! now the cross of red
Points to the grave of the mighty dead ;
Within it burns a wonderous light.
To chase the spirits that love the night :
That lamp shall burn unquenchablyf
Until the eternal doom shall be."

Slow moved the Monk to the broad flag-stone.

Which the bloody cross was traced upon :

He pointed to a secret nook ;

A bar from thence the warrior took ;

And the Monk made a sign with his withered hand,

The grave's huge portal to expand.

XVIII.

With beating heart, to the task he went ;

His sinevrjr frame o*er the grave-stone bent;

With bar of iron heaved amain.

Till the toil-drops fell from his brows lik6 rain.

It was by dint of passing strength.

That he moved the massy stone at length.

I would you had been there to see.

How the light broke forth so gloriously ;

Streamed upward to the chancel roof.

And through the galleries far aloof !

No earthly flame blazed e'er so bright :

It shone like heaven's ovna blessed light ;

And, issuing from Ae tomb,
Shewed the Monk's cowl, and visage pale ;

Danced on the dark-brow'd Warrior's mail,
And kissed his waving plume.

Before their eyes the wizard lay.

As if he had not been dead a day ;

His hoary beard in silver rolled,

He seemed some seventy winters old ;

A palmer's amice wrapped him round.

With a wrought Spanish baldric bound.

Like a pilgrim from beyond the sea :
. His left hand held his book of might ;
A silver cross was in his right ;

The lamp was placed beside his knee :
High and majestic was his look,
At which the fellest fiends had shook ;
And all unruffled was his face —
They trusted his soul had gotten grace.

Often had William of Deloraine

Rode through the battle's bloody plain,

And traimpled down the warriors slain,

And neither known remorse or awe ;
Yet now remorse and awe he own'd ;
His breath came thick, his head swam round,

When this strange scene of death he saw.
Bewildered and unnerved, he stood.
And the priest prayed fervently, and loud ;
With eyes averted, prayed he.
He might not endure the sight to see.
Of the man he had loved so brotherly;

And when the priest his death-prayer had prayed,

Thus unto Deloraine he said —

" Now speed thee what thou hast to do,

Or, warrior, we may dearly rue ;

For those, thou mayest not look upon,

Are gathering fast round the yawning stone !" —

Then Deloraine, in terror, took

From the cold hand the mighty book.

With iron clasped, and with iron bound :

He thought, as he took it, the dead man frowned ;

But the glare of the sepulchral light.

Perchance, had dazzled the warrior's sight.

XXII.

When the huge stone sunk o'er the tomb.

The night returned, in double gloom ;

For the moon had gone down, and the stars were few;

And, as the knight and priest withdrew,

With wavering steps, and dizzy brain.

They hardly might th.e postern gain.

'Tis said, as through the aisles they passed.

They heard strange noises on the blast ;

And through the cloister-galleries small.

Which at mid-height thread the chancel wall.

Loud sobs, and laughter louder, ran,
And voices unlike the voice of man ;
As if the fiends kept holiday.
Because these spells were brought to-day.
I cannot tell how the truth may be ;
I say the tale as 'twas said to me.

XXIII.

" Now hie thee hence," the father said ;

" And when we are on death-bed laid,

O may our dear Ladye, and sweet St John,

Forgive our souls for the deed we have done !**

The Monk returned him to his cell.

And many a prayer and penance sped ;
When the convent met at the noontide bell —

The Monk of St Mary's aisle was dead !
Before the cross was the body laid.
With hands clasped fast, as if still he prayed.

XXIV.

The knight hreathed free in the morning wind,

And strove his hardihood to find :

He was glad when he passed the tombstones gray.

Which girdle round the fair Abbaye ;

For the mystic book, to his bosom prest.

Felt like a load upon his breast ;

And his joints, with nerves of iron twined.

Shook, like the aspen leaves in wind.

Full fain was he when the dawn of day

Began to brighten Cheviot gray ;

He joyed to see the cheerful light.

And he said Ave Mary, as well as he might.

XXV.

The sun had brightened Cheviot gray.

The sun had brightened the Carter's * side ;

And soon beneath the rising day

Smiled Branksome towers and Teviot's tide

* A mountain on the border of England, above Jedburgh.

The wild birds told their warbling tale.

And wakened every flower that blc^vg ;
And peeped forth the violet pale,

And spread her breast the mountain rose :
And lovelier than the rose so red.

Yet paler than the violet pale.
She early left her sleepless bed.

The fairest maid of Teviotdale.

XXVI.

Why does fair Margaret so early awake.

And don her kirtle so hastilie ;
And the silken knots which in hurry she would make.

Why tremble her slender fingers to tie ;
Why does she stop, and look often around.

As she glides down the secret stair ;
And why does she pat the shaggy blood-hound.

As he rouses him up ft'om his lair ;
And though she passes the postern alone.
Why is not the watchman's bugle blown ?

54,

XXVII.

The ladye steps in doubt and dread.

Lest her watchful mother hear her tread ;

The ladye caresses the rough blood-hound.

Lest his voice should waken the castle round ;

The watchman's bugle is not blown.

For he was her foster-father's son ;

And she glides through the greenwood at dawn of light.

To meet Baron Henry, her own true knight.

XXVIII.

The knight and ladye fair are met,

And under the hawthorn's boughs are set.

A fairer pair were never seen

To meet beneath the hawthorn green.

He was stately, and young, and tall ;

Dreaded in battle, and loved in hall :

And she, when love, scarce told, scarce hid,

Lent to her cheek a livelier red ;

When the half sigh her swelling hreast
Against the silken rihhand pressed ;
When her blue eyes their secret told.
Though shaded by her locks of gold —
Where would you find the peerless fair
With Margaret of Branksome might compare !

And now, fair dames, methinks I see

You listen to my minstrelsy ;

Your waving locks ye backward throw.

And sidelong bend your necks of snow—

Ye ween to hear a tender tale

Of two true lovers in a dale ;

And how the knight, with tender fire.
To paint his faithful passion, strove ;

Swore, he might at her feet expire.
But never, never cease to love ;
And how she blushed, and how she sighed.
And, half consenting, half denied,

And said that she would die a maid-
Yet, might the bloody feud be stayed,
Henry of Cranstoun, and only he,
Margaret of Branksome's choice should be.

Alas ! fair dames, your hopes are vain !
My harp has lost the enchanting strain ;

Its lightness would my age reprove :
My hairs are gray, my limbs are old,
My heart is dead, my veins are cold —

I may not, must not, sing of love.

Beneath an oak, mossed o'er by eld.
The Baron's dwarf his courser held.

And held his crested helm and spear.
That dwarf was scarcely an earthly man.
If the tales were true that of him ran

Through all the Border, far and near.

'Twas said, when the Baron a hunting rode,
Through Reedsdale's glens, but rarely trod.
He heard a voice cry, " Lost ! lost ! lost !
And, like tennis-ball by raquet tossed,

A leap, of thirty feet and three.
Made from the gorse this elfin shape.
Distorted like some dwarfish ape.

And lighted at Lord Cranstoun's knee.
Lord Cranstoun was some whit dismayed ;

'Tis said that five good miles he rade.

To rid him of his company ;
But where he rode one mile, the dwarf ran four.
And the dwarf was first at the castle door.

XXXII

Use lessens marvel, it is said.
This elvish dwarf with the Baron staid ;
Little he eat, and less he spoke.
Nor mingled with the menial fiock ;

And oft apart his arms he tossed.
And often muttered, ** Lost ! lost ! lost !
He was waspish, arch, and litherlie.
But well Lord Cranstoun served he :
And he of his service was full fain ;
For once he had been ta'en or slain.

An' it had not been his ministry.
An, between Home and Hermitage,
Talked of Lord Cranstoun*s goblin page.

For the Baron went on pilgrimage,
And took with him this elfish page.

To Mary's chapel of tjie Lowes ;
For there, beside our Ladye*s lake.
An offering he had sworn to make.

And he would pay his vows.
But the Ladye of Branksome gathered a band
Of the best that would ride at her command ;.

The trysting place was Newark Lee.
Wat of Harden came thither amain.
And thither came John of Thirlestaine,
And thither came William of Deloraine ;

They were three hundred spears and three.
Through Douglas-hurn, up Yarrow stream.
Their horses prance, their lances gleam 1
They came to St Mary's lake ere day ;
But the chapel was void, and the Baron away.
They hurned the chapel for very rage.
And cursed Lord Cranstoun's goblin page.

XXXIV.

And now, in Branksome's good green wood,

As under the aged oak he stood.

The Baron's courser pricks his ears.

As if a distant noise he hears.

The dwarf waves his long lean arm on high.

And signs to the lovers to part and fly ;

No time was then to vow or sigh.

Fair Margaret, through the hazel grove.
Flew like the startled cushat-dove * :
The dwarf the stirrup held and rein ;
Vaulted the knight on his steed amain.
And, pondering deep that morning's scene.
Rode eastward through the hawthorns green,

While thus he poured the lengthened tale.
The Minstrel's voice began to fail :
Full slyly smiled the observant page,
And gave the withered hand of age
A goblet, crowned with mighty wine.
The blood of Velez' scorched vine.
He raised the silver cup on high.
And, while the big drop filled his eye.
Prayed God to bless the Duchess long.
And all who cheered a son of song.

• Wood-pigeon.

The attending maidens smiled to see.
How long, how deep, how zealously.
The precious juice the Minstrel quaffed ;
And he, emboldened by the draught.
Looked gaily back to them, and laughed..
The cordial nectar of the bowl
Swelled his old veins, and cheered his soul ;
A lighter, livelier prelude ran.
Ere |iius his tale again began.

..■*

THE

LAY

THE LAST MINSTREL.

CANTO THIRD.

THE

LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.

CANTO THIRD.

And said I that my limbs were old ;
And said I that my blood was cold^
And that my kindly fire was fled.
And my poor withered heart was dead.

And that I might not sing of love ?•
How could I, to the dearest theme.
That ever warmed a minstrel's dream,

So foul, so false, a recreant prove!

How could I name love's very name^
Nor wake my harp to notes of flame !

II.

In peace. Love tunes the shepherd's reed ;

In war, he mounts the warrior's steed ;

In halls, in gay attire is seen ;

In hamlets, dances on the green.

Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,

And men helow, and saints above ;

For love is heaven, and heaven is love.

III.
So thought Lord Cranstoun, as I ween.
While, pondering deep the tender scene.
He rode through Branksome's hawthorn green.
But the page shouted wild and shrill —

And scarce his helmet could he don.
When downward from the shady hill

A stately knight came pricking on.

That warrior'^s steed, so dapple gray.

Was dark with sweat, and splashed with clay ;

His armour red with many a stain :
He seemed in such a weary plight.
As if he had ridden the live-long night ;

For it was William of Deloraine.

IV.

But no whit weary did he seem.

When, dancing in the sunny beam, -

He marked the crane on the Baron's crest ;

For his ready spear was in his rest.

Few were the words, and stem, and high.
That marked the foemen's feudal hate ;
For question fierce, and proud reply.

Gave signal soon of dire debate.
Their very coursers seemed to know
That each was other's mortal foe ;
And snorted fire, when wheeled around.
To give each knight his vantage ground.

In rapid round the Baron bent ;

He sighed a sigh, and prayed a prayer :
The prayer was to his patron saint.

The sigh was to his ladye fair.
Stout Deloraine nor sighed, nor prayed.
Nor saint, nor ladye, called to aid ;
But he stooped his head, and couched his spear,
And spurred his steed to full career.
The meeting of these champions proud
Seemed like the bursting thunder-cloud.

Stern was the dint the Borderer lent !

The stately Baron backwards bent;

Bent backwards to his horse's tail.

And his plumes went scattering on the gale ;

The tough ash spear, so stout and true.

Into a thousand flinders flew.

But Cranstoun*s lance, of more avail.

Pierced through, like silk, the Borderer's mail ;

Through shield, and jack, and acton, past>
Deep in his bosom, broke at last —
Still sate the warrior saddle-fast.
Till, stumbling in the mortal shock,
Down went the steed, the girthing broke.
Hurled on a heap lay man and horse.
The Baron onward passed his course ;
Nor knew — so giddy rolled his brain-
His foe lay stretched upon the plain.

VII.

But when he reined his courser round.
And saw his foeman on the ground

Lie senseless as the bloody clay.
He bade his page to stanch the wound.

And there beside the warrior stay.
And tend him in his doubtful state.
And lead him to Branksome castle-gate :
His noble mind was inly moved
For the kinsman of the maid he loved.

" This shalt thou do without delay ;
No longer here myself may stay :
Unless the swifter I speed away.
Short shrift will be at my dying day.

VIIL

Away in speed Lord Cranstoun rode ;

The goblin-page behind abode :

His Lord's command he ne*er withstood,.

Though small his pleasure to do good.

As the corslet off he took,

The dwarf espied the mighty book !

Much he marvelled a knight of pride.

Like a book-bosomed priest, should ride :

He thought not to search or stanch the wound.

Until the secret he had found.

IX.

The iron band, the iron clasp,
Resisted long the elfin grasp ;

For when the first he had UDdone,
It closed as he the next begun.
Those iron clasps, that iron band,
Would not yield to unchristened hand.
Till he smeared the cover o'er
With the Borderer's curdled gore ;
A moment then the volume spread.
And one short spell therein he read.
It had much of glamour * might.
Could make a ladye seem a knight ;
The cobwebs on a dungeon wall.
Seem tapestry in lordly hall ;
A nut-shell seem a gilded barge,
A sheeling f seem a palace large.
And youth seem age, and age seem youth'
All was delusion, nought was truth.

He had not read another spell,
When on his cheek a buffet fell,

* Magical delusion. f A shepherd's hut

So fierce, it stretched him on the plain.
Beside the wounded Deloraine.
From the ground he rose dismayed.
And shook his huge and matted head ;
One word he muttered, and no more —

" Man of age, thou smitest sore !**

No more the elfin page durst try

Into the wonderous hook to pry;

The clasps, though smeared with Christian gore,

_ «

Shut faister than they were before.
He hid it underneath his cloak —
Now, if you ask who gave the stroke,
I cannot tell, so mot I thrive ;
It was not given by man alive.

XI.

Unwillingly himself he addressed.
To do his master's high behest :
He lifted up the living corse.
And laid it on the weary horse ;

He led him into Branksome hall.

Before the beards of the warders all;

And each did after swear and say.

There only passed a load of hay.

He took him to Lord David's tower.

Even to the Ladye's secret bower ;

And, but that stronger spells were spread.

And the door might not be opened.

He had laid him on her very bed.

Whatever he did of gramarye *,

Was always done maliciously.

He flung the warrior on the ground.

And the blood welled freshly from the wound.

XII.

As he repassed the outer court.

He spied the fair young child at sport.

He thought to train him to the wood ;

For, at a word, be it understood.

He was always for ill, and never for good.

* Magic.
K

Seemed to the boy some comrade gay ;
Led him forth to the woods to play ;
On the draw-bridge the warders stout
Saw a terrier and lurcher passing out.

XIII.

He led the boy o*er bank and fell.

Until they came to a woodland brook ;
The running stream dissolved the spell.

And his own elvish shape he took.
Could he have had his pleasure vilde.
He had crippled the joints of the noble child ;
Or, with his fingers long and lean.
Had strangled him, in fiendish spleen :
But his awful mother he had in dread.
And also his power was limited ;
So he but scowled on the startled child.
And darted through the forest wild;
The woodland brook he bounding crossed.
And laushed and shouted, " Lost ! lost ! lost !

XIV.

Full sore amazed at the wonderous change,
And frightened, as a child might be.

At the wild yell and visage strange.
And the dark words of gramarye.

The child, amid the forest bower.

Stood rooted like a lilye flower ;

And when at length, with trembling pace.
He sought to find where Branksome lay,

He feared to see that grisly face

Glare from some thicket on his way.

Thus, starting oft, he journeyed on.

And deeper in the wood is gone ;

For aye the more he sought his way.

The farther still he went astray.

Until he heard the mountains round

Ring to the baying of a hound i

XV.

And hark ! and hark ! the deep-mouthed bark

Comes nigher still, and nigher ;
Bursts on the path a dark blood-hound,
His tawny muzzle tracked the ground.

And his red eye shot fire.
Soon as the wildered child saw he.
He flew at him right furiouslie.
I ween you would have seen with joy
The bearing of the gallant boy.
When, worthy of his noble sire.
His wet cheek glowed *twixt fear and ire !
He faced the blood-hound manfully.
And held his little bat on. high ;
So fierce he struck, the dog, afraid.
At cautious distance hoarsely bayed.

But still in act to spring ;
When dashed an archer through the glade.
And when he saw the hound was stayed.

He drew his tough bow-string ;

But a rough voice cried, " Shoot not, hoy !

Ho ! shoot not, Edward — ^'tis a boy !

XVI.

The speaker issued from the wood.
And checked his fellow's surly mood.

And quelled the ban-dog's ire.
He was an English yeoman good.

And bom in Lancashire ;
Well could he hit a fallow deer

Five hundred feet him fro ;
With hand more true, and eye more clear.

No archer bended bow?
His coal-black hair, shorn round and close,

Set off his sun-burned face ;
Old England's sign, St George's cross.

His barret-cap did grace ;
His bugle horn hung by his side,

All in a wolf-skin baldrick tied ;
And his short faulchion, sharp and clear.
Had pierced the throat of many a deer.

XVII:

His'kirtle, made of forest green.

Reached scantly to his knee ;
And at his belt, of arrows keen

A furbished sheaf bore he ;
His buckler scarce in breadth a span.

No larger fence had he ;
He never counted him a man.

Would strike below the knee ;
His slackened bow was in his hand.
And the leash that was his blood-hound's band.

XVIII.
He would not do the fair child harin.
But held him with his powerful arm.
That he might neither fight nor flee ;
For when the red-cross spied he.
The boy strove long and violently.
" Now, by St George," the archer cries,
" Edward, methinks, we have a prize !

This boy's fair face, and courage free.
Shews he is come of high degree/'

** Yes ! I am come of high degree.

For I am the heir of bold Buccleuch ;
And if thou dost not set me free.

False Suthron, thou shalt dearly rue !
For Walter of Harden shall come with speed.
And William of Deloraine, good at need.
And every Scott from Eske to Tweed ;
And if thou dost not let me go.
Despite thy arrows and thy bow,
I'll have thee hanged, to feed the crow !"

" Gramercy, for thy good will, fair boy !
My mind was never set so high ;
But if thou art chief of such a clan,
And art the son of such a man.

And ever comest to thy command.

Our wardens had need to keep good order :
My bow of yew to a hazel wand,

Thou'lt make them work upon the Border.
Meantime, be pleased to come with me.
For good Lord Dacre shalt thou see ;
I think our work is well begun.
When we have taken thy father's son."

Although the child was led away,
In Branksome still he seemed to stay,
For so the dwarf his part did play ;
And in the shape of that young boy.
He wrought the castle much annoy.
The comrades of the young Buccleuch
He pinched, and beat, and overthrew ;
Nay, some of them he well nigh slew.
He tore Dame Maudlin's silken tire ;
And as Sym Hall stood by the fire,

He lighted the match of his bandelier*,

And woefully scorched the hackbutteer*!*.
It raay be hardly thought, or said,
The mischief that the urchin made.
Till many of the castle guessed
That the young Baron was possessed !

XXII.
Well I ween the charm he held
The noble Ladye had soon dispelled;
But she was deeply busied then
To tend the wounded Deloraine.
Much she wondered to find him lie.

On the stone threshold, stretched along ;
She thought some spirit of the sky

Had done the bold moss-trooper wrong ;
Because, despite her precept dread.
Perchance he in the book had read ;

* Bandelier, belt for carrying ammunition.

t Hackbutteer, musketeer.

Bat the broken lance in his bosom stood.
And it was earthly steel and wood.

XXIII.

She drew the splinter from the wound,

And with a charm she stanched the blood ;
She bade the gash be cleansed and bound ;

No longer by his couch she stood ;
Bat she has ta'en the broken lance.
And washed it from the clotted gore.
And salved the splinter o*er and o'er.
William of Deloraine, in trance.
Whene'er she turned it round and round.
Twisted, as if she galled his wound.
Then to her maidens she did say,
That he should be whole man and sound,

Within the course of a night and day.
Full long she toiled ; for she did rue
Mishap to friend so stout and true.

XXIV.

So passed the day — ^the evening fell,
'Twas near the time of curfew bell ;
The air was mild, the wind was. calm.
The stream was smooth, the dew was balm ;
E'en the rude watchman, on the tower.
Enjoyed and blessed the lovely hour.
Far more fair Margaret loved and blessed
The hour of silence and of rest.
On the high turret, sitting lone,
She waked at times the lute's soft tone ;
Touched a wild note, and all between
Thought of the bower of hawthorns green ;
Her golden hair streamed free from band.
Her fair cheek rested on her hand.
Her blue eye sought the west afar.
For lovers love the western star.

XXV.

Is yon the star o'er Penchryst-Pen,
That rises slowly to her ken,

And, spreading broad its wavering light.

Shakes its loose tresses on the night?

Is yon red glare the western star ? —

O 'tis the beacon-blaze of war !

Scarce could she draw her tightened breath ;

For well she knew the fire of death !

XXVI.

The warder viewed it blazing strong.
And blew his war-note loud and long,
Till, at the high and haughty sound,
Rock, wood, and river, rung around ;
The blast alarmed the festal hall.
And startled forth the warriors all ;
Far downward, in the castle-yard.
Full many a torch and cresset glared ;
And helms and plumes, confusedly tossed,
Were in the blaze half-seen, half-lost ;
And spears in wild disorder shook,
Like reeds beside a frozen brook.

XXVII.
The ScDeschal, whose silver hair
Was reddened by the torches' glare,
Stood in the midst, with gesture proud.
And issued forth his mandates loud —
" On Penchryst glows a bale* of fire,
And three are kindling on Priesthaughswire ;

Ride out, ride out.

The foe to scout !
Mount, mount for Branksome f, every man !
Thou, Todrig, warn the Johnstone clan.

That ever are true and stout —
Ye need not send to liddesdale ;
For when they see the blazing bale,
Elliots and Armstrongs never fail —
Ride, Alton, ride, for death and life !
And warn the Warden of the strife.
Young Gilbert, let our beacon blaze.
Our kin, and clan, and friends, to raise.*' —

* Bale, beacon-faggot.

t Mount Jor Branksome was the gathering word of die Scotts.

XXVIII;

Fair Margaret, from the turret head,
Heard, far below, the coursers' tread.

While loud the harness rung.
As to their seats, with clamour dread^

The ready horsemen sprung ;
And trampling hoofs, and iron coats.
And leaders' voices, mingled notes.
And out ! and out !
In hasty route.

The horsemen galloped forth ;
Dispersing to the south to scout.

And east, and west, and north.
To view their coming enemies.
And warn their vassals and allies.

• J

The ready page, with hurried hand.
Awaked the need-fire's * slumbering brand,

• Need-firCy beacon.

And ruddy blushed the heaven :
For a sheet of flame from the turret high
Waved like a blood-flag on the sky.

All flaring and uneven ;
And soon a score of fires, I ween.
From height, and hill, and clifi*, were seen ;
Each with warlike tidings fraught ;
Each from each the signal caught ;
Each after, each they glanced to sight.
As stars arise upon the night.
They gleamed on many a dusky tarn*.
Haunted by the lonely earn-j-j
On many a cairn's ;{; gray pyramid.
Where urns of mighty chiefs lie hid ;
Till high Dunedin the blazes saw.
From Soltra and Dumpender Law ;
And Lothian heard the regent's order.
That all should bowne§ them for the Border.

• Tarn, a mountain lake. f J5ar«, a Scottish eagle.

I Cairn, a pile of stones. § Bowne, make ready.

The livelong night in Branksome rang

The ceaseless sound of steel ;
The castle-bell, with backward clang,
Sent forth the larum peal ;
. Was frequent heard the heavy jar.
Where massy stone and iron bar
Were piled on echoing keep and tower,
To whelm the foe with deadly shower ;
Was frequent heard the changing guard.
And watch-word from the sleepless ward ;
While, wearied by the endless din.
Blood-hound and ban-dog yelled within.

The noble dame, amid the broil,
Shared the gray Seneschal's high toil.
And spoke of danger with a smile ;
Cheered the young knights, and council sage
Held with the chiefs of riper age.

No tidings of the foe were brought.
Nor of his numbers knew they ought.
Nor what in time of truce he sought.

Some said that there were thousands ten ;
And others weened that it was nought,

But Leveri clans, or Tynedale men,
Who came to gather in black mail * ;
And Liddisdale, with small avail.

Might drive them lightly back agen.
So passed the anxious night away>
And welcome was the peep of day.

Ceased the high sound — ^the listening throng
Applaud the Master of the song ;
And marvel much, in helpless age.
So hard should be his pilgrimage.

• Protection-money exacted by free-booters.

Had he no friend — no daughter dear.
His wandering toil to share and cheer ;
No son, to be his father s stay.
And guide him on the rugged way ? —
" Aye ! once he had — but he was dead !
Upon the harp he stooped his head.
And busied himself the strings withal.
To hide the tear that fain would fall.
In solemn measure, soft and slow.
Arose a father's notes of woe.

»»

THE

JLiXX JL

THE LAST MINSTREL.

CANTO FOURTH.

THE

LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.

CANTO FOURTH.

Sweet Teviot I on thy silver tide.
The glaring bale-fires blaze no more ;

No longer steel-clad warriors ride
Along thy wild and willowed shore ;

Where'er thou wind*st by dale or hill.

All, all is peaceful, all is still.

As if thy waves, since Time was born.
Since first they rolled their way to Tweed,
Had only heard the shepherd's reed.

Nor started at the bugle-horn. -

II.

Unlike the tide of human time.

Which, though it change in ceaseless flow.
Retains each grief, retains each crime.

Its earliest course was doomed to know ;
And, darker as it downward bears.
Is stained with past and present tears.

Low as that tide has ebbed with me.
It still reflects to memory's eye
The hour, my brave, my only boy.

Fell by the side of great Dundee.
Why, when the volleying musket played
Against the bloody Highland blade.
Why was not I beside him laid !
Enough — ^he died the death of fame ;
Enough — ^he died with conquering Graeme.

III.
Now over Border dale and fell,

Full wide and fal^ was terror spread ;
For pathless marsh, and mountain cell.

The peasant lefit his lowly shed.
The frightened flocks and herds were pent
Beneath the peel's rude battlement ;
And maids and matrons dropped the tear.
While ready warriors seized the spear.
From Branksome's towers, the watchman's eye
Dun wreaths of distant smoke can spy.
Which, curling in the rising sun.
Shewed southern ravage was begun.

IV.
Now loud the heedful gate-ward cried-

" Prepare ye all for blows and blood !
Wat Tinlinn, from the Liddle-side,

Comes wading through the flood.

Full oft the Tynedale snatchers knock
At his lone gate, and prove the lock ;
It was but last St Barnabrigiit
They sieged him a whole summer night,
But fled at' morning ; well they knew,
In vain he never twanged the yew.
Right sharp has been the evening shower.
That drove him from his Liddle tower ;
And, by my faith,** the gate- ward said,
" I think 'twill prove a warden-raid*/*

While thus he spoke, the bold yeoman
Entered the echoing barbican.
He led a small and shaggy nag.
That through a bog, from hag to hag*!*.
Could bound like any Bilhope stag ;

* An inroad commanded by the warden in person,
t The broken ground in a bog. -

It bore his wife and children twain ;

A half-clothed serf * was all their train :

His wife, stout, ruddy, and dark-browed.

Of silver broach and bracelet proud.

Laughed to her friends among the crowd.

He was of stature passing tall.

But sparely formed, and lean withal ;

A battered marion on his brow ;

A leathern jack, as fence enow.

On his broad shoulders loosely hung ;

A border-axe behind was slung ;

His spear, six Scottish ells in length.
Seemed newly dyed with gore ;

His shafts and bow, of wonderous strength.
His hardy partner bore.

VI.

Thus to the Ladye did Tinlinn shew
The tidings of the English foe —

" Belted Will Howard is marching here,
And hot Lord Dacre, with many a spear,

* Bonda-man.

And all the German hagbut-men *,

Who long have lain at Askerten :

They crossed the Liddle at curfew hour.

And burned my little lonely tower ;

The fiend receive their souls therefor !

It had not been burned this year and more.

Barn-yard and dwelling, blazing bright.

Served to guide me on my flight ;

But I was chased the live-long night.

Black John of Akeshaw^ and Fergus Graeme,

Fast upon my traces came,

Until I turned at Priesthaugh-Scrogg,

And shot their horses in the bog.

Slew Fergus with my lance outright ;

I had him long at high despite :

He drove my cows last Fastern*s night.

VII.

Now weary scouts from Liddesdale,
Fast hurrying in, confirmed the tale ;

* Musketeers.

As far as they could judge by ken,

Three hours would bring to Teviot's strand
Three thousand armed EngUshmen—
Meanwhile, full many a warlike band,
From Teviot, Aill, and Ettrick's shade.
Came in, their Chief's defence to aid.

VIII.

From fair St Mary's silver wave.

From dreary Gamescleuch's dusky height.
His ready lances Thirlestane brave

Arrayed beneath a banner bright.
The tressured fleur-de-luce he claims
To wreathe his shield, since royal James,
^ Encamped by Fala's mossy wave,
The proud distinction grateful gave, •

For faith mid feudal jars ;
What time, save Thirlestane alone,
Of Scotland's stubborn barons none ,

Would march to southern wars ;

100

And hence, in fair remembrance worn.
Yon sheaf of spears his crest has borne ;
Hence his high motto shines revealed,
" Ready, aye ready," for the field.

IX.

An aged knight, to danger steeled.
With many a moss-trooper, came on ;

And azure in a golden field.

The stars and crescent graced his shield.
Without the bend of Murdieston.

Wide lay his lands round Oak wood tower.
And wide round haunted Castle-Ower ;
High over Borthwick's mountain flood.
His wood-embosomed mansion stood ;
In the dark glen, so deep below.
The herds of plundered England low ;
His bold retainers* daily food.
And bought with danger, blows, and blood

101

Marauding chief! his sole delight
The mooDlight raid, the morning fight ;
Not even the Flower of Yarrow's charms.
In youth might tame his rage for arms ;
And still in age he spumed at rest.
And still his brows the helmet pressed ;
Albeit the blanched locks below
Were white as Dinlay's spotless snow ;

Five stately warriors drew the sword
Before their father s band ;

A braver knight than Harden's lord
Ne'er belted on a brand.

Whitslade the Hawk, and Headshaw came.
And warriors more than I may name ;
But better hearts o*er Border sod
To ^iege or rescue never rode.

102

The Ladye marked the aids come in.
And high her heart of pride arose ;
She bade her youthful son attend.
That he might know his father's friend,

And learn to face his father's foes.
" The boy is ripe to look on war ;

I saw him draw a cross-bow stiff.
And his true arrow struck afar
The raven's nest upon the cliff;
The red cross, on a southern breast,
Is broader than the raven's nest :
Thou, Whitslade, shalt teach him his weapon to

wield.
And o'er him hold his father's shield."

XI.

Well may you think the wily page
Cared not to face the Ladye sage.
He counterfeited childish fear,
And shrieked, and shed full many a tear.

103

And moaned and plained in mannei- wild.
The attendants to the Ladye told.

Some fairy, sure, had changed the child,
That wont to be so free and bold.
Then wrathful was the noble dame ;
She blushed blood-red for very shame-
" Hence ! ere the clan his faintness view ;
Hence with the weakling to Buccleuch ;
Watt Tinlinn, thou shalt be his guide
To Ranglebum's lonely side.
Sure some fell fiend has cursed our line.
That coward should e*er be son of mine !"

XII.

A heavy task Watt Tinlinn had.
To guide the counterfeited lad.
Soon as his palfrey felt the weight
Of that ill-omen'd elvish freight.
He bolted, sprung, and reared amain.
Nor heeded bit, nor curb, nor rein.

104

It cost Wat Tinlinn mickle toil
To drive him but a Scottish mile ;

But, as a shallow brook they crossed.
The elf, amid the ruuning stream.
His figure changed, like form in dream.

And fled, and shouted, " Lost ! lost ! lost !"
Full fast the urchin ran aud laughed.
But faster still a cloth-yard shaft
Whistled from startled Tinlinn*s yew.
And pierced his shoulder through and through.
Although the imp might not be slain.
And though the wound soon healed again.
Yet, as he ran, he yelled for pain ;
And Wat of Tinlinn, much aghast.
Rode back to Branksome fiery fast.

XIII.

Soon on the hilFs steep verge he stood.

That looks o'er Branksome's towers and wood ;

105

And martial murmurs, from below.
Proclaimed the approaching southern foe.
Through the dark wood, in mingled tone.
Were border-pipes and bugles blown ;
The coursers neighing he could ken.
And measured tread of marching men ;
While broke at times the solemn hum.
The Almayn's sullen kettle-drum ;

And banners tall, of crimson sheen.
Above the copse appear;

And,, glistening through the hawthorns green,

Shine helm, and shield, and spear.

XIV.

light forayers first, to view the ground.
Spurred their fleet coursers loosely round ;
Behind, in close array and fast.

The Kendale archers, all in green,
Obedient to the bugle-blast.

Advancing from the wood, were seen.

106

To back and guard the archer band.
Lord D acre's bill-men were at hand ;
A hardy race, on Irthing bred.
With kirtles white, and crosses red,
Arrayed beneath the banner tall.
That streamed o*er Acre's conquered wall ;
And minstrels, as they marched in order.
Played " Noble Lord Dacre, he dwells on the
Border.

XV.

Behind the English bill and bow,
The mercenaries, firm and slow.

Moved on to fight, in dark array,
By Conrad led of Wolfenstein,
Who brought the band from distant Rhine,

And sold their blood for foreign pay.
The camp their home, their law the sword.
They knew no country, owned no lord ;
They were not armed like England's sons,
But bore the levin-darting guns ;

107

Buff-coats, all frounced and 'broidered o'er.

And morsing-horns * and scarfs they wore ;

Each better knee was bared, to aid

The warriors in the escalade ;

All, as they marched, in rugged tongue.

Songs of Teutonick feuds they sung.

XVI.

But' louder still the clamour grew.
And louder still the minstrels blew.
When, from beneath the greenwood tree.
Rode forth Lord Howard's chivalry ;
His men at arms, with glaive and spear.
Brought up the battle's glittering rear.
There many a youthful knight, full keen
To gain his spurs, in arms was seen ;
With favour in his crest, or glove.
Memorial of his Ladye-love.
So rode they forth in fair array.
Till full their lengthened lines display ;

* Powder flasks.

108

Then called a halt, and made a stand.

And cried, " St George, for merry England !"

XVII.

Now every English eye, intent,.
On Branksome's armed towers was bent ;
So near they were, that they might know
The straining harsh of each cross-bow ;
On battlement and bartizan*
Gleamed axe, and spear, and partizan ;
Falcon and culver "f* on each tower
Stood prompt, their deadly hail to shower ;
And flashing armour frequent broke
From eddying whirls of sable smoke,
Where, upon tower and turret head.
The seething pitch and molten lead
Reeked, like a witch's cauldron red.
While yet they gaze, the bridges fall.

* Battlement f Ancient pieces of artillery.

109

The wicket opes, and from the wall
Rides forth the hoary Seneschal.

XVIII.

Armed he rode all save the head.

His white heard o*er his hreast-plate spread ;

Unbroke by age, erect his seat.

He ruled his eager coursers gait;

Forced him, with chastened fire, to prance,

And, high curvetting, slow advance ;

In sign of truce, his better hand

Displayed a peeled willow wand ;

His squire, attending in the rear.

Bore high a gauntlet on a spear.

When they espied him riding out.

Lord Howard and Lord Dacre stout

Sped to the front of their array.

To hear what this old knight should say.

110

" Ye English warden lords, of you
Demands the Ladye of Buccleuch,
Why, 'gainst the truce of Border-tide,
In hostile guise, ye dare to ride.
With Kendal bow, and Gilsland brand.
And all yon mercenary band.
Upon the bounds of fair Scotland 1
My Ladye reads you swith return ;
And, if but one poor straw you bum.
Or do our towers so much molest.
As scare one swallow from her nest,
St Mary ! but we'll light a brand
Shall warm your hearths in Cumberland."

A wrathful man was Dacre's lord.
But calmer Howard took the word —
" May't please thy Dame, Sir Seneschal,
To seek the castle's outward wall ;

Ill

Our pursuivant-at-arms shall shew.
Both why we came, and when we go/*
The message sped, the noble Dame
To the walls' outward circle came ;
Each chief around leaned on his spear.
To see the pursuivant appear ;
All in Lord Howard's livery dressed.
The lion argent decked his breast.
He led a boy of blooming hu
O sight to meet a mother's view !
It was the heir of great Buccleuch.
Obeisance meet the herald made.
And thus his master's will he said;

XXI.

*^ It irks, high Dame, my noble lords,
'Gainst ladye fair to draw their swords ;
But yet they may not tamely see.
All through the western wardenry,

Your law-contemning kinsmen ride,
And burn and spoil the Border-side ;
And ill beseems your rank and birth
To make your towers a flemens-firth *.
We claim from thee William of Deloraine,
That he may suffer march-treason pain*t*:
It was but last St Cuthbert's even
He pricked to Stapleton on Leven,
Harried ;|: the lands of Richard Musgrave,
And slew his brother by dint of glaive ;
Then since a lone and widowed Dame
These restless riders may not tame.
Either receive within thy towers
Two hundred of my master's powers,
Or straight they sound their warison §,
And storm and spoil thy garrison ;
And this fair boy, to London led.
Shall good king Edward's page be bred."

* An asylum for outlaws. f Border treason.

J Plundered. § Note of assault

115

XXII.

He ceased — and loud the boy did cry.
And stretched his little arms on high ;
Implored for aid each well-known face.
And strove to seek the Dame's embrace.
A moment changed that Ladye's cheer.
Gushed to her eye the unbidden tear ;
She gazed upon the leaders round.
And dark and sad each warrior frowned.
Then, deep within her sobbing breast
She locked the struggling sigh to rest ;
Unaltered and collected stood.
And thus replied, in dauntless mood.

" Say to thy lords of high emprize.

Who war on women and on boys.

That either William of Deloraine

Will cleanse him, by oath, of march-treason stain,

Or else he will the combat take

'Gainst Musgrave, for his honour's sake.

114

No knight in Cumberland so good.

But William may count with him kin and blood ;

Knighthood he took of Douglas* sword.

When English blood swelled Ancram ford ;

And but that Lord Dacre's steed was wight.

And bare him ably in the flight.

Himself had seen him dubbed a knight.

For the young heir of Branksome's line,

God be his aid, and God be mine ;

Through me no friend shall meet his doom ;

Here, while I live, no foe finds room.

Then if thy lords their purpose urge.
Take our defiance loud and high ;

Our slogan is their lyke-wake * dirge.

Our moat the grave where they shall lie.

XXIV.

Proud she looked round applause to claim-
Then lightened Thirlestane's eye of flame ;

* Lykc'toakef the watching a corpse previous to interment

»>

115

His bugle Wat of Harden blew ;
Pensils and pennons wide were flung,
To heaven the Border slogan rung,

" St Mary for the young Buccleuch !
The English war-cry answered wide.

And forward bent each southern spear ;
Each Kendale archer made a stride.

And drew the bowstring to his ear ;
Each minstreVs war-note loud was blown ;
But, e*er a gray-goose shaft had flown,

A horseman galloped from the rear.

XXV.

" Ah, noble Lords !" he breathless said,
" What treason has your march betrayed ?
What make you here, from aid so far.
Before you walls, around you war?
Your foemen triumph in the thought.
That in the toils the lion s caught.

116

Already on dark Ruberslaw

The Douglas holds his weapon-schaw * ;

The lances, waving in his train.

Clothe the dun heath like autumn grain ;

And on the liddle's northern strand.

To bar retreat to Cumberland,

Lord Maxwell ranks his merry-men good.

Beneath the eagle and the rood ;

And Jedwood, Eske, and Teviotdale,

Have to proud Angus come ;
And all the Merse and Lauderdale
Have risen with haughty Home.
An exile from Northumberland,

In Liddisdale I Ve wandered long ;
But still my heart was with merry England,
And cannot brook my country's wrong ;
And hard IVe spurred all night, to shew
The mustering of the coming foe. "

* Weapon'Schaw, the military array of a county.

•

117

XXVI.

" And let them come !** fierce Dacre cried ;
" For soon yon crest, my father's pride.
That swept the shores of Judah's sea,
And waved in gales of Galilee,
From Branksome's highest tower displayed.
Shall mock tiie rescue's lingering aid-
Level each harquebuss on row ;
Draw, merry archers, draw the bow ;
Up, biU-men, to the walls, and cry,
Dacre for England, vnn or die !"

XXVII.

" Yet hear," quoth Howard, " calmly hear.
Nor deem my words the \^ords of fear ;
For who in field or foray slack
Saw the blanche lion e'er fall back ?
But thus to risque our Border flower
In strife against a kingdom's power.

lA-j.

118

' Ten thousand Scots 'gainst thousands three,
Certes, were desperate policy.
Nay, take the terms the Ladye made.
E'er conscious of the advancing aid :
Let Musgrave meet fierce Deloraine
In single fight ; and if he gain.
He gains for us ; but if he's crossed,

*rT»«

Tis but a single warrior lost.
The rest, retreating as they came.
Avoid defeat, and death, and shame.

»>

XXVIII.

Ill could the haughty Dacre brook
His brother-warden's sage rebuke;
And yet his forward step he staid.
And slow and sullenly obeyed :
But ne'er again the Border side
Did these two lords in friendship ride ;
And this slight discontent, men say.
Cost blood upon another day.

119

The pursuivant-at-arms again

Before the castle took his stand ;
His trumpet called, with parleying strain.

The leaders of the Scottish band ;
And he defied, in Musgrave's right.
Stout Deloraine to single fight ;
A gauntlet at their feet he laid.
And thus the terms of fight he said-

" If in the lists good Musgrave's sword

Vanquish the knight of Deloraine,
Your youthful chieftain, Branksome's lord.

Shall hostage for his clan remain :
If Deloraine foil good Musgrave,
The boy his liberty shall have.

Howe'er it falls, the English band,
Unharming Scots, by Scots unharmed.
In peaceful march, like men unarmed.

Shall straight retreat to Cumberland."

120

Unconscious of the near relief,

The proiFer pleased each Scottish chief.

Though much the Ladye sage gainsayed :
For though their hearts were brave and true.
From Jedwood's recent sack they knew.

How tardy was the regent's aid ;
And you may guess the noble Dame

Durst not the secret prescience own.
Sprung from the art she might not name.

By which the coming help was known.
Closed was the compact, and agreed
That lists should be inclosed with speed.

Beneath the castle, on a lawn.
They fixed the morrow for the strife.
On foot, with Scottish axe and knife.

At the fourth hour from peep of dawn \
When Deloraine, from sickness freed.
Or else a champion in his stead.

121

Should for himself and chieftain stand.
Against stout Musgrave, hand to hand.

I know right well that, in their lay.
Full many minstrels sing and say.

Such combat should be made on horse.
On foaming steed, in full career.
With brand to aid, when as the spear

Should shiver in the course :
But he, the jovial Harper, taught
Me, yet a youth, how it was fought,

In guise which now I say;
He knew each ordinance and clause
Of black Lord Archibald's battle laws.

In the old Douglas' day.
He brooked not, he, that scoffing tongue
Should tax his minstrelsy with wrong,

122

Or call his song untrue :
For this, when they the goblet plied.
And such rude taunt had chafed his pride.

The bard of Reulj he slew.
On Teviot's side, in fight, they stood,
And tuneful hands were stained with blood ;
Where still the thorn's white branches wave,
Memorial o'er his rival's grave.

XXXII.

Why should I tell the rigid doom^
That dragged my master to his tomb ;

How Ousenam's maidens tore their hair.
Wept till their eyes were dead and dim.
And wrung their hands for love of him.

Who died at Jedwood Air?

He died ! — his scholars, one by one,
To the cold silent grave are gone ;
And I, alas ! survive alone.

123

To muse o'er rivalries of yore.
And grieve that I shall hear no more
The strains, with envy heard before ;
For, vrith my minstrel brethren flfed,
My jealousy of song is dead.

He paused — the listening dames again
Applaud the hoary Minstrel's strain ;
With many a w^ord of kindly cheer.
In pity half, and half sincere.
Marvelled the Duchess hovjr so well
His legendary song could tell —
Of ancient deeds, so long forgot ;
Of feuds, whose memory was not ;
Of forests, now laid waste and bare ;
Of towers, which harbour now the hare;
Of manners, long since changed and gone ;
Of chiefs, who under their gray stone

194

So long had slept, that fickle Fame
Had blotted from her rolls their name.
And twined round some new minion's, head
The fading wreath for which they bled-r—
In sooth, 'twas strange, this old man'« verse
Could call them from their marble hearse.

The Harper smiled, well pleased; for ne'er
Was flattery lost on poet's ear :
A simple race ! they waste their toil
For the vain tribute of a smile ;
E'en when in age their flame expires.
Her dulcet breath can fan its fires ;

Their drooping fancy wakes at praise.
And strives to trim the short-lived blaze.

Smiled then, well pleased, the Aged Man,
And thus his tale continued ran.

THE

LAY

THE LAST MINSTREL

CANTO FIFTH.

THE

LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.

CANTO FIFTH.

Call it not vain — they do not err.

Who say, that, when the poet dies.
Mute Nature mourns her worshipper.
And celebrates his obsequies ;
Who say, tall cliiF, and cavern lone.
For the departed bard make moan ;
That mountains weep in crystal rill ;
That flowers in tears of balm distil ;

128

Through his loved groves that breezes sigh.
And oaks, in deeper groan, reply ;
And rivers teach their rushing wave -«
To murmur dirges round his grave.

II.

Not that, in sooth, o'er mortal urn
Those things inanimate can mourn ;
But that the stream, the wood, the gale,
Is vocal with the plaintive wail
Of those, who, else forgotten long,
Lived in the poet's faithful song.
And, with the poet's parting breath.
Whose memory feels a second death.
The maid's pale shade, who wails her lot.
That love, true love, should be forgot.
From rose and hawthorn shakes the tear
Upon the gentle minstrel's bier ;
The phantom knight, his glory fled.
Mourns o'er the field he heaped with dead;

129

MouDts the wild blast that sweeps amain.

And shrieks along the battle-plain ;

The chief, whose antique crownlet long

Still sparkled in the feudal song.

Now, from the mountain's misty throne.

Sees, in the thanedom once his own, .

His ashes undistinguished lie.

His place, his power, his memory die :

His groans the lonely caverns fill.

His tears of rage impel the rill ;

All mourn the minstrel's harp unstrung, ,

Their name unknown, their praise unsung.

III.

Scarcely the hot assault was staid.

The terms of truce were scarcely made.

When they could spy, from Branksome's towers.

The advancing march of martial powers ;

Thick clouds of dust afar appeared.

And trampling steeds were faintly heard ;

130

Spear-heads, above the columns dun,

Glanced momentary to the sun ;

And feudal banners fair displayed

The 'bands that moved to Branksome's aid.

IV.

Vails not to tell each hardy clan,

From the fair Middle Marches came ;
The Bloody Heart blazed in the van.

Announcing Douglas, dreaded name !
Vails not to tell what hundreds more.
From the rich Merse and Lammermore,
And Tweed's fair borders, to the war.
Beneath. the crest of old Dunbar,

And Hepburn's mingled banners, come,
Down the steep mountain glittering far.

And shouting still, " a Home ! a Home !"

Now squire and knight, from Branksome sent,
On many a courteous message went ;

131

To every chief and lord they paid
Meet thanks for prompt and powerful aid ;
And told them how a truce was made.
And how a day of fight was ta'en
'Twixt Musgrave and stout Deloraine ;

And how the Ladye prayed them dear.
That all would stay the fight to see.
And deign, in love and courtesy.
To taste of Branksome cheer.
Nor, while they bade to feast each Scot,
Were England's noble Lords forgot ;
Himself, the hoary Seneschal,
Rode forth, in seemly terms to caU
Those gallant foes to Branksome Hall.
Ac<jepted Howard, than whom knight
Was never dubbed, more bold in fight ;
Nor, when from war and armour free.
More famed for stately courtesy :
But angry Dacre rather chose
In his pavilion to repose.

132

VI.

Now, noble Dame, perchance you ask, .

How these two hostile armies met?
Deeming it were no easy task

To keep the truce which here was set ;
Where martial spirits, all on fire,
Breathed only blood and mortal ire —

— By mutual inroads, mutual blows.
By habit, and by nation foes.

They met on Teviot's strand :
They met, and sate them mingled down,
Without a threat, without a frown.

As brothers meet in foreign land.
The hands, the spear that lately grasped.
Still in the mailed gauntlet clasped.

Were interchanged in greeting dear ;
Visors were raised, and faces shewn.
And many a friend, to friend made known.

Partook of social cheer.

133

Some drove the jolly bowl about;

With dice and draughts some chased the day;
And some, with many a merry shout,
In riot, reveby, and rout.

Pursued the foot-ball play.

VII.
Yet, be it known, had bugles blown.

Or sign of war been seen ;
Those bands, so fair together ranged.
Those hands, so frankly interchanged.

Had dyed with gore the green :
The merry shout by Teviot-side
Had sunk in war-cries wild and wide.

And in the groan of death ;
And whingers *, now in friendship bare.
The social meal to part and share.

Had found a bloody sheath.

* A sort of knife, or poniard.

134

*Twixt truce and war, such sudden change
Was fior unfrequent, nor held strange.

In the old Border-day;
But yet on Branksome's towers and town.
In peaceful merriment, sunk down
The sun's declining ray.

VIII.

The hlithesome signs of wassell gay
Decayed not with the dying day ;
Soon through the latticed windows tall.
Of lofty Branksome's lordly hall,
Divided square hy shafts of stone.
Huge flakes of ruddy lustre shone ;
Nor less the gilded rafters rang
With merry harp and beakers' clang ;

And frequent, on the darkening plain.
Loud hollo, whoop, or whistle ran.

As bands, their stragglers to regain.

Give the shrill watch-word of their clan ;

135

And revellers, o'er their bowls, proclaim
Douglas or Dacre's conquering name.

IX.

Less frequent heard, and fainter still,

At length the various clamours died ;
And you might hear, from Branksome hill.

No sound but Teviot's rushing tide ;
Save, when the changing centiiiel
The challenge of his watch could tell ;
And save, where, through the dark profound.
The clanging axe and hammer's sound

Rung from the nether lawn ;
For many a busy hand toiled there.
The list's dread barriers to prepare.

Against the morrow's dawn.

Margaret from hall did soon retreat.
Despite the Dame's reproving eye ;

Nor marked she, as she left her seat.
Full many a stifled sigh.

136

For many a noble warrior strove
To win the Flower of Teviot's love.

And many a bold ally.
With throbbing head and anxious heart.
All in her lonely bower apart,
. In broken sleep she lay ;
By times, from silken couch she rose.
While yet the bannered hosts repose ;

She viewed the dawning day.
Of all the hundreds sunk to rest.
First woke the loveliest and the best.

XI.

She gazed upon the inner court,

Which in thetbwer's tall shadow lay;
Where coursers' clang, and stamp, and snort.

Had rung the live-long yesterday.
Now still as death — ^till, stalking slow —

The jingling spurs announced his tread —
A stately warrior passed below ;

But when he raised his plumed head-

137

Blessed Mary ! can it be ?
Secure, as if in Ousenam bowers.
He walks througb Branksome's hostile towers.

With fearless step, and free.
She dare not sign, she dare not speak-
Oh ! if one page's slumbers break.

His blood the price must pay !
Not all the pearls Queen Mary wears.
Not Margaret's yet more precious tears.

Shall buy his life a day.

XIL

Yet was his hazard small — for well
You may bethink you of the spell v

Of that sly urchin page ;
This to his Lord he did impart.
And made him seem, by glamour art^

A knight from Hermitage.
Unchallenged, thus, the warder's post.
The court, unchallenged, thus he crossed.

For all the vassalage :

158

But, O what magic's quaint disguise
Could blind fair Margaret's azure eyes !

She started from her seat ;
While with surprise and fear she strove.
And both could scarcely master love —

Lord Henry's at her feet.

XIII.

Oft have I mused what purpose bad
That foul malicious urchin had

To bring this meeting round ;
For happy love's a heavenly sight.
Aid by a vile malignant sprite

In such no joy is found :
And oft I've deemed, perchance he thought
Their erring passion might have wrought

Sorrow, and sin, and shame ; ^
And death to Cranstoun's gallant Knight,
And to the gentle Ladye bright.

Disgrace, and loss of fame.

139

But earthy spirit could not tell
The heart of them that loved so well ;
True love's the gift which God has given
To man alone beneath the heaven.

It is not Fantasy's hot fire,

WTiose wishes, soon as granted, fly ;

It liveth not in fierce desire.

With dead desire it doth not die ;
It is the secret sympathy.
The silver cord, the silken tie,
Which heart to heart, and mind to mind.
In body and in soul can bind.
Now leave we Margaret and her Knight,
To tell you of the approaching fight.

XIV.
Their warning blast the bugles blew.

The pipe's shrill port* aroused each clan;
In haste, the deadly strife to view.

The trooping warriors 6ager ran.

* A martial piece of music, adapted to the bagpipes.

, •

140

Thick round the lists their lances stood.
Like blasted pines in Ettricke wood ;
To Branksome many a look they threw.
The combatants' approach to view.
And bandied many a word of boast
About the knight each favoured most.

XV.

Meantime full anxious was the Dame ;
For now arose disputed claim
Of who should fight for Deloraine,
*Twixt Harden and *twixt Thirlestaine.
They *gan to reckon kin and rent,
And frowning brow on brow was bent ;

But yet not long the strife — for, lo !
Himself, the Knight of Deloraine,
Strong, as it seemed, and free from pain.

In armour sheathed from top to toe.
Appeared, and craved the combat due.
The Dame her charm successful knew*.
And the fierce chiefs their claims withdrew.

* See p. 82. Stanza XXIII.

141

XVI.

When for the lists they sought the plain.
The stately Ladye s silken rein

Did noble Howard hold ;
Unarmed by her side he walked.
And much, in courteous phrase, they talked

Of feats of arms of old.
Costly his garb- — his Flemish ruff
Fell o'er his doublet, shaped of buff.

With sattin slashed, and lined ;
Tawny his boot, and gold his spur.
His cloak was all of Poland fur.

His hose with silver twined ;
His Bilboa blade, by March men felt.
Hung in a broad and studded belt ;
Hence, in rude phrase, the Borderers still
Called noble Howard, Belted WiU.

XVII.

Behind Lord Howard and the Dame,
Fair Margaret on her palfrey came.

142

Whose foot-cloth swept the ground ;
White was her wimple, and her veil.
And her loose locks a chaplet pale

Of whitest roses bound ;
The lordly Angus by her side.
In courtesy to cheer her tried ;
Without his aid, her hand in vain
Had strove to guide her broidered rein.
He deemed she shuddered at the sight
Of warriors met for mortal fight ;
But cause of terror, all unguessed.
Was fluttering in her gentle breast.
When in their chairs of crimson placed.
The Dame and she the barriers graced.

XVIII.

Prize of the field, the young Buccleuch,
An English knight led forth to view ;
Scarce rued the boy his present plight.
So much he longed to see the fight.
Within the lists, in knightly pride.
High Home and haughty Dacre ride ;

143

Their leading staffs of steel they wield.
As marshals of the mortal field ;
Then heralds hoarse did loud proclaim.
In king, and queen, and wardens' name.

That none, while lasts the strife.
Should dare, by look, or sign, or word.
Aid to a champion to afford.

On peril of his life.
Then not a breath the silence broke.
Till thus the alternate heralds spoke.

ENGLISH HERALD.

Here standeth Richard of Musgrave,

Good knight, and true, and freely born.
Amends from Deloraine to crave.

For foul despiteous scathe and scorn.
He say eth, that William of Deloraine

Is traitor false by Border laws ;
This with his sword he will maintain,

So help him God, and his good cause !

144

SCOTTISH HERALD.

Here standeth William of Deloraine,
Good knight and true, of noble strain.
Who sayeth, that foul treason's stain.
Since he bore arms, ne'er soiled his coat.
And that, so help him God above.
He will on Musgrave's body prove.
He lyes most foully in his throat.

LORD DACRE.

Forward, brave champions, to the fight !
Sound trumpets

LORD HOME.

■■ " God defend the right !'*

At the last word, with deadly blows.
The ready warriors fiercely close.

145

111 would it suit your gentle ear.

Ye lovely listeners, to bear

How to the axe the helms did sound,

And blood poured down from many a wound ;

For desperate was the strife, and long.

And either warrior fierce and strong.

But were each dame a listening knight,

I well could tell bow warriors fight;

For I have seen war's lightning flashing.

Seen the claymore with bayonet clashing.

Seen through red blood the war-horse dashing,

And scorned, amid the reeling strife.

To yield a step for death or life.

XXII.
*Tis done, 'tis done ! that fatal blow

Has stretched him on the bloody plain ;
He strives to rise — Brave Musgrave, no !

Thence never shalt thou rise again !

146

He chokes in blood — some friendly hand

Undo, the visor s barred band.

Unfix the gorget's iron clasp.

And give him room for life to gasp !•

In vain, in vain — haste, holy friar.

Haste, ere the sinner shall expire !

Of all his guilt let him be shriven, .

And smooth his path from earth to heaven.

xxin.

In haste the holy friar sped,

His naked foot was dyed with red.

As through the lists he ran ;
Unmindful of the shouts on high.
That hailed the conqueror s victory.

He raised the dying man ;
Loose waved his silver beard and hair.
As o'er him he kneeled down in prayer.
And still the crucifix on high.
He holds before his darkening eye.

147

And still be bends an anxious ear.
His faultering penitence to hear ;

Still props him from the bloody sod.
Still, even when soul and body part.
Pours ghostly comfort on his heart.

And bids him trust in God ! '
Unheard he prays ; *tis o'er, *tis o'er !
Richard of Musgrave breathes no more.

XXIV.

As if exhausted in the fight.

Or musing o'er the piteous sight.

The silent victor stands ;
His beaver did he not unclasp.
Marked not the shouts, felt not the grasp

Of gratulating hands.
When lo ! strange cries of w^ild surprise.
Mingled, with seeming terror, rise

Among the Scottish bands ;
And all amid the thronged array.
In panic haste gave open way.

148

To a half-naked ghastly man.
Who downward from the castle ran ;
He crossed the barriers at a bound,
And wild and hagard looked around,

As dizzy, and in pain ;
And all, upon the armed ground.

Knew William of Deloraine !
Each ladye sprung from seat with speed ;
Vaulted each marshal from his steed ;

" And who art thou," they cried,
" Who hast this battle fought and won V*
His plumed heliln was soon undone —

, " Cranstoun of Teviotside !
For this fair prize I've fought and won,"-
And to the Ladye led her son.

XXV.

Full oft the rescued boy she kissed.
And often pressed him to her breast ;
For, under all her dauntless show.
Her heart had throbbed at every blow ;

149

Yet not Lord Cranstoun deigned she greet,
Though low he kneeled at her feet.
Me lists not tell what words were made.
What Douglas, Home, and Howard said —

— For Howard was a generous foe —
And how the clan united prayed,

The Ladye would the feud forego.
And deign to hless the nuptial hour
Of Cranstoun's Lord and Teviot's Flower.

XXVI.

She looked to river, looked to hillj

Thought on the spirit's prophecy.
Then broke her silence stern and still,

, " Not you, but Fate, has vanquished' me ;
Their influence kindly stars may shower
On Teviot's tide and Branksome's tower.
For pride is quelled, and love is free."
She took fair Margaret by the hand.
Who, breathless, trembling, scarce might stand ;

€i

150

That hand to Cranstoun's lord gave she.

As I am true to thee and thine.
Do thou be true to me and mine !

This clasp of love our bond shall be ;
For this is your betrothing day.
And all these noble lords shall stay.

To grace it with their company/*

XXVII.

All as they left the listed plain,

Much of the story §he did gain,

How Cranstoun fought with Deloraine,

And of his page, and of the book.

Which from the wounded knight he took ; '

And how he sought her castle high,

That morn, by help of gramarye ;

How, in Sir William's armour dight.

Stolen by his page, while slept the knight.

He took on him the single fight.

151

But half his tale he left unsaid.

And lingered till he joined the maid.

Cared not the Ladye to hetray

Her mystic arts in view of day ;

But well she thought ere midnight came,

Of that strange page the pride to tame.

From his foul hands the hook to save.

And send it hack to Michael's grave.

Needs not to tell each tender word

*Twixt Margaret and 'twixt Cranstoun's lord ;

Nor how she told of former woes,

And how her hosom fell and rose.

Whilst he and Musgrave handied blows —

Needs not these lovers* joys to tell ;

One day, fair maids, youll know them well.

XXVIII.

William of Deloraine, some chance
Had wakened from his deathlike trance ;

152

And taught that, in the listed plain.
Another, in his arms and shield,
Against fierce Musgrave axe did wield.
Under the name of Deloraine.
Hence, to the field, unarmed, he ran.
And hence his presence scared the clan.
Who held him for some fleeting wraith *,
And not a man of blood and breath.
Not much this new ally he loved.
Yet, when he saw what hap had proved.
He greeted him right heartiUe.
He would not waken old debate.
For he was void of rancorous hate.
Though rude, and scant of courtesy ;
In raids he spilt but seldom blood.
Unless when men at arms withstood.
Or, as was meet, for deadly feud.
He ne'er bore grudge for stalwart blow,
Ta*en in fair fight from gallant foe ;

* The spectral apparition of a living person.

153

And so 'twas seen of him ; e'en now,

When on dead M usgrave he looked down,

Grief darkened on his rugged brow.
Though half-disguised with a frown ;

And thus, while sorrow bent his head.

His foeman s epitaph he made.

" Now, Richard Musgrave, liest thou here I

I ween my deadly enemy,
For if I slew thy brother dear.

Thou slewest a sister s son to me ;
And when I lay in dungeon dark.

Of Naworth Castle, long months three.
Till, ransomed for a thousand mark.

Dark Musgrave, it was long of thee.
And, Musgrave, could our fight be tried.

And thou wert now alive, as I,
No mortal man should us divide.

Till one, or both of us, did die :

154

Yet, rest thee God ! for well I know,
I ne'er shall find a nobler foe !
In all the northern counties here,
Whose word is, Snafle, spur, and spear *,
Thou wert the best ta*follow gear ;
*Twas pleasure, as we looked behind.
To see how thou the chace couldst wind.
Cheer the dark blood-hound on his way.
And with the bugle rouse the fray !
I*d give the lands of Deloraine,
Dark Musgrave were alive again." —

So mourned he, till Lord Dacre*s band
Were bowning back to Cumberland.

They raised brave Musgrave from the fields
And laid him on his bloody shield ;

* The lands that over Ouse to Berwick forth do bear,
Have for their blazon had, the snafle, spur, and spear.

Poly-albiony Songxxxiii.

155

On levelled lances, four and four.
By turns, the noble burden bore.
Before, at times, upon the gale.
Was heard the Minstrers plaintive wail ;
Behind, four priests, in sable stole.
Sung requiem for the warrior's soul ;
Around, the horsemen slowly rode ;
With trailing pikes the spearmen trod ;
And thus the gallant knight they bore.
Through Liddesdale to Leven's shore.
Thence to Holme Coltrame's lofty nave.
And laid him in his father's grave.

The harp's wild notes, though hushed the song.
The mimic march of death prolong ;
Now seems it far, and now a-near,

Now meets, and now eludes the ear ;

156

Now seems some mountain's side to sweep,
Now faintly dies in valley deep ;
Seems now as if the Minstrel's wail.
Now the sad requiem loads the gale ;
Last, o'er the warrior's closing grave.
Rung the full choir in choral stave.

After due pause, they bade him tell.
Why he, who touched the harp so well.
Should thus, with ill-rewarded toil.
Wander a poor and thankless soil.
When the more generous southern land
Would well requite his skilful hand.

The aged Harper, howsoe'er
His only friend, his harp, was dear.
Liked not to hear it ranked so high
Above his flowing poesy j

157

Less liked he still that scornful jeer
Misprized the land he loved so dear ;
High was the sound, as thus again
The Bard resumed his minstrel strain.

THE

LAY

THE LAST MINSTREL

CANTO SIXTH.

THB

LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.

CANTO SIXTH.

Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,

This is my own, my native land !
Whose heart hath ne'er within him homed.
As home his footsteps he hath turned.

From wandering on a foreign strand !
If such there hreathe, go, mark him well ;
For him no Minstrel raptures swell ;

162

High though his titles, proud his name.
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf.
The wretch, concentered all in self.
Living, shall forfeit fair renown.
And, doubly dyifig, shall go dotvn
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung.
Unwept, unhonoured, and unsung.

11.

O Caledonia ! stern and wild.

Meet nurse for a poetic child !

Land of brown heath and shaggy wood.

Land of the mountain and the flood,,

Land of my sires ! what mortal hand

Can e'er untie the filial band.

That knits me to thy rugged strand!

Still, as I view each well known scene.

Think what is now, and what hath been,

163

Seems as, to me, of all bereft.

Sole friends, thy woods and streams were left ;

And thus I love them better still.

Even in extremity of ill.

By Yarrow's stream still let me stray.

Though none should guide my feeble way ;

Still feel the breeze down Ettricke breaks

Although it chill my withered cheek ;

Though there, forgotten and alone.

The Bard may draw his parting groan.

III.

Not scorned like me ! to Branksome Hall
The Minstrels came, at festive call ;
Trooping they came, from near and far.
The jovial priests of mirth and war ;
Alike for feast and fight prepared,
Battle and banquet both they shared.
Of late, before each martial clan.
They blew their death-note in the van ;

164

But now, for every merry mate.

Rose the Portcullis' iron grate ;

They sound the pipe, they strike the string.

They dance, they revel, and they sing.

Till the rude turrets shake and ring.

IV.

Me lists not at this tide declare

The splendour of the spousal rite,
How mustered in the chapel fair,

Both maid and matron, squire and knight;
Me lists not tell of owchjes rare.
Of mantles green, and braided hair.
And kirtles furred with miniver ;
What plumage waved the altar round,
How spur^, and ringing chainlets, sound :
And hard it were for bard to speak
The changeful hue of Margaret's cheek ;
That lovely hue, which comes and flies.
As awe and shame alternate rise !

165

Some bards have sung, the Ladye high
Chapel or altar came not nigh ;
Nor durst the rites of spousal grace,
So much she feared each holy place.
False slanders these-I trust right well,

She wrought not by forbidden spell ;
For, mighty words and signs have power
O'er sprites in planetary hour-
Yet scarce I praise their venturous part.
Who tamper with such dangerous art.
But this for faithful truth I say.

The Ladye by the altar stood.
Of sable velvet her array,

And on her head a crimson hood.
With pearls embroidered and entwined.
Guarded with gold, with ermine lined ;
A merlin sat upon her wrist.
Held by a leash of silken twist.

166

VI.

The spousal rites were ended soon ;
*Twas now the merry hour of noon^
And in the lofty-arched hall
Was spread the gorgeous festival :
Steward and squire, with heedful haste.
Marshalled the rank of every guest ;
Pages, with ready blade, were there.
The mighty meal to carve and share.
O'er capon, heron-shew, and crane, .
And princely peacock's gilded train,
And o'er the boar-head, garnished brave.
And cygnet from St Mary's wave,;
O'er ptarmigan and venison,
The priest had spoke his benison.
Then rose the riot and the din.
Above, beneath, without, within !
For, from the lofty balcony.
Rung trumpet, shalm, and psaltery ;

167

Their clanging bowls old warriors quaffed, .
Loudly they spoke, and loudly laughed ;
Whispered young knights, in tone more mild,
To. ladies fair, arid ladies smiled.
The hooded hawks, high perched on beam,
The clamour joined with whistling scream.
And flapped their wings, and shook their bells,
In concert with the staghounds' yells.
Round go the flasks of ruddy wine,
From Bourdeaux, Orleans, or the Rhine;
Their tasks the busy sewers ply.
And all is mirth and revelry.

VII.

The goblin page, omitting still

No opportunity of ill.

Strove now, while blood ran hot and high.

To rouse debate and jealousy ;

Till Conrade, lord of Wolfenstein,

By nature fierce, and warm with wine.

168

And DOW in humour highly crossed,

About some steeds his band had lost.

High words to words succeeding still.

Smote, with his gauntlet, stout Hunthill ;

A hot and hardy Rutherford,

Whom men called Dickon Draw-the-sword.

He took it, on the page's saye,

Hunthill had driven these steeds away.

Then Howard, Home, and Douglas rose.

The kindling discord to compose.

Stem Rutherford right little said.

But bit his glove and shook his head —

A fortnight thence, in Inglewood,

Stout Conrade, cold, and drenched in blood.

His bosom' gored with many a wound.

Was by a woodman's lyme-dog found ;

Unknown the manner of his death.

Gone was his brand, both sword and sheath ;

169

But ever from that time, 'twas said,
That Dickon wore a Cologne blade.

VIII.

The dwarf, who feared his master's eye
Might his foul treachery espie.
Now sought the castle buttery.
Where many a yeoman, bold and free.
Revelled as merrily and well.
As those that sate in lordly selle.
Wat Tinlinn, there, did frankly raise
The pledge to Arthur Fire-the-braes ;
And he, as by his breeding bound.
To Howard's merry-men sent it round.
To quit them on the English side.
Red Roland Forster loudly cried,
" A deep carouse to yon fair bride !"
At every pledge, from vat and pail.
Foamed forth, in floods, the nut-brown ale ;

170

While shout the riders every one,
Such day of mirth ne'er cheered their clan,
Since old Buckleuch the name did gain,
When in the cleuch the buck was ta'en.

IX.

The wily page, with vengeful thought.
Remembered him of Tinlinn's yew.
And swore, it should be dearly bought.

That ever he that arrow drew.
First, he the yeoman did molest.
With bitter gibe and taunting jest ;
Told how he fled at Solway strife.
And how Hob Armstrong cheered his wife ;
Then, shunning still his powerful arm.
At unawares he wrought him harm ;
From trencher stole his choicest cheer.
Dashed from his lips his can of beer.
Then, to his knee sly creeping on.
With bodkin pierced him to the bone :

171

The venomed wound, and festering joint,

Long after rued that bodkin's point.

The startled yeoman swore and spumed.

And . board and flaggons overturned ;

Riot and clamour wild began ;

Back to the hall the urchin ran ;

Took, in a darkling nook, his post.

And grinned and muttered, " Lost I lost ! lost !"

By this, the Dame, lest ftirther fray
Should mar the concord of the day.
Had bid the Minstrels tune their lay.
And first stept forth old Albert Graeme,
The Minstrel of that ancient name :
Was none who struck the harp so well,
Within the Land Debateable ;
Well friended too, his hardy kin.
Whoever lost, were sure to win ;

172

They sought the beeves that made their broth.
In Scotland and in England both.
In homely guise, as nature bade.
His simple song the Borderer said.

XI.

ALBERT GRiEME.

It was an English ladye bright.

The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall.

And she would marry a Scottish knight.
For Love will still be lord of all !

Blithely they saw the rising sun.

When he shone fair on Cariisle wall.

But they were sad ere day was done.
Though Love was still the lord of all !

Her sire gave brooch and jewel fine.

Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall.

Her brother gave but a flask of wine.
For ire that Love was lord of all !

173

For she had lands, both meadow and lea.
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall.

And he swore her death ere he would see
A Scottish knight the lord of all !

XII.

That wine she had not tasted weU,

■

The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall ;
When dead, in her true lover's arms, she feU,
For Love was still the lord of all !

He pierced her brother to the heart.

Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall ;

So perish all would true love part,
That Love may still be lord of all !

And then he toojk the cross divine.

Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall.

And died for her sake in Palestine,
So Love was still the lord of all !

174

Now all ye lovers that faithful prove.
The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,

Pray for their souls who died for love.
For Love shall still be lord of all !

XIII.
As ended Albert's simple lay.

Arose a bard of loftier port ;
For sonnet, rhime, and roundelay.

Renowned in haughty Henry's court :
There rung thy harp, unrivalled long,
Fitztraver of the silver song.
The gentle Surrey loved his lyre —

Who has not heard of Surrey's fame ?
His was the hero's soul of fire.

And his the bard's immortal name.
And his was love exalted high.
By all the glow of chivalry.

175

XIV.

They sought, together, climes afar.

And oft. within some olive grove.
When evening came, with twinkling star.

They sung of Surrey's absent love.
His step *the Italian peasant staid.

And deemed, that spirits from on high,
Round where some hermit saint was laid.

Were breathing heavenly melody ;
So sweet their harps and voices join.
To praise the name of GeraJdine.

XV.

Fitztraver ! O what tongue may say.
The pangs thy faithful bosom knew,

When Surrey, of the deathless lay.
Ungrateful Tudor's sentence slew!

Regardless of the tyrant's frown.

His harp called wrath and vengeance down ;

176

He left, for Naworth*s iron towers,
Windsor's green glades, and courtly bowers ;
And faithful to his patron's name.
With Howard, still, Fitztraver came ;
Lord William's foremost favourite he.
And chief of all his minstrelsy.

XVI.

FITZTRAVER.

Twas All-soul's eve, and Surrey's heart beat high !

He heard the midnight-bell with anxious start.
Which told the mystic hour, approaching nigh.

When wise Cornelius promised, by his art.
To shew to him the ladye of his heart.

Albeit, betwixt them roared the ocean grim ;
Yet so the sage had high to play his part.

That he should see her form in life and limb.
And mark, if still she loved, and still she thought of him.

177
XVII.

Dark was the vaulted room of gramarye,

To which the wizard led the gallant knight.
Save that before a mirror, huge and high,

A hallowed taper shed a glimmering light
On mystic implements of magic might.

On cross, and character, and talisman.
And almagest, and altar, nothing bright :

For fitful was the lustre, pale and wan.
As watch-light, by the bed of some departing man.

XVIII.
But soon within that mirror, huge and high,

Was seen a self-emitted light to gleam ;
And forms upon its breast, the earl *gan spy,

Cloudy and indistinct, as feverish dream ;
Till, slow arranging, and defined, they seem

To form a lordly and a lofty room.
Part lighted by a lamp, with silver beam,

Placed by a couch of Agra's silken loom.
And part by moonshine pale, and part was hid in gloom.

17a

■

XIX.

Fair all the pageant — ^but how passing fair

The slender form which lay on couch of Ind !
0*er her white bosom strayed her hazel hair.

Pale her dear cheek, as if for love she pined ;
All in her night-robe loose, she lay reclined.

And, pensive, read from tablet eburnine.
Some strain, that seemed her inmost soul to find — ■

That favoured strain was Surrey's raptured line.
That fair and lovely form, the Ladye Geraldine.

Slow rolled the clouds upon the lovely form.

And swept the goodly vision all away-
So royal envy rolled the murky storm

O'er my beloved Master's glorious day.
Thou jealous, ruthless tyrant ! Heaven repay

On thee, and on thy children's latest line.
The wild caprice of thy despotic sway.

The gory bridal bed, the plundered shrine,
The murdered Surrey's blood, the tears of Geraldine !

179

XXL

Both Scots, and Southern chiefs, prolong
Applauses of Fitztraver's song ;
These hated Henry's name as death.
And those still held the ancient faith.
Then, from his seat, with lofty air.
Rose Harold, bard of brave St Clair ;
St Clair, who, feasting high at Home,
Had with that Lord to battle come.
Harold was born where restless seas
Howl round the storm-swlept Orcades ;
Where erst St Clairs held princely sway.
O'er isle and islet, strait and bay ;
Still nods their palace to its fall.
Thy pride and sorrow, fair Kirkwall !
Thence oft he marked fierce Pentland rave,
As if grim Odinn rode her wave ;
And watched, the whilst, with visage pale.
And throbbing heart, the struggling sail ;

180

For all of wonderful and wild
Had rapture for the lonely child

XXII.

And much of wild and wonderful,
In these rude isles, might Fancy cuU ;
For thither came, in times afar.
Stem Lochlin*s sons of roving war.
The Norsemen, trained to spoil and blood.
Skilled to prepare the raven's food ;
Kings of the main, their leaders brave.
Their barks, the dragons of the wave ;
And there, in many a stormy vale.
The Scald had told his wondrous tale ;
And many a Runic column high
Had witnessed grim idolatry.
And thus had Harold, in his youth.
Learned many a Saga's rhime uncouth.
Of that sea-snake, tremendous curled.
Whose monstrous circle girds the world ;

181

Of those dread maids, whose hideous yell

Maddens the battle's bloody swell ;

Of chiefs, who, guided through the gloom

By the pale death-lights of the tomb.

Ransacked the graves of warriors old.

Their faulchions wrenched from corpses* hold.

Waked the deaf tomb with war's alarms.

And bade the dead arise to arms !

With war and wonder all on flame.

To Roslin's bowers young Harold came.

Where, by sweet glen and greenwood tree.

He learned a milder minstrelsy ;

Yet something of the Northern spell

Mixed with the softer numbers well.

xxni.

HAROLD.

O listen, listen, ladies gay !

No haughty feat of arms I tell ;
Soft is the note, and sad the lay.

That mourns the lovely Rosabelle.

182

— " Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew !

Aod, gentle ladye, deign to stay !
Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch,

Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day.

" The blackening .wave is edged with white ;

To inch * and rock the sea-mews fly ;
The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite,

Whose screams forebode that vnreck is nigh.

" Last night the gifted seer did view
A wet shroud rolled round ladye gay ;

Then stay thee. Fair, in Ravensheuch :
Why cross the gloomy firth to-day?"-

— " *Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir
To-night at Roslin leads the ball.

But that my Ladye-mother there
Sits lonely in her castle-hall.

* Inchy Isle.

183

" *Tis not because the ring they ride.
And lindesay at the ring rides weU,

But that my sire the wine will chide.
If 'tis not filled by Rosabelle."-

O'er Roslin all that dreary night

A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam ;

'Twas broader than the watch-fire light.
And brighter than the bright moon-beam

It glared on Roslin's castled rock.
It reddened all the copse-wood glen ;

'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak,
And seen from cavemed Hawthomden.

Seemed all on fire that chapel proud.
Where Roslin's chiefs un coffined lie ;

Each Baron, for a sable shroud.
Sheathed in his iron panoply.

184

Seemed all on fire within, around,
Both vaulted crypt and altar's pale ;

Shone every pillar foliage-bound.

And glimmered all the dead-men's mail.

Blazed battlement and pinnet high.

Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair-
So stiU they blaze when fate is nigh
The lordly line of high St Clair.

There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold
Lie buried within that proud chapelle ;

Each one the holy vault doth hold —
But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle !

And each St Clair was buried there.

With candle, with book, and with knell ;

But the Kelpy* rung, and the Mermaid sung.
The dirge of lovely Rosabelle.

* Kelpy, the Water Demon.

185

XXV.

So sweet was Harold's piteous lay,

Scarce marked the guests the darkened hall,
Though long before the sinking day,

A wonderous shade involved them all :
It was hot eddying mist or fog.
Drained by the sun from fen or bog ;

Of no eclipse had sages told ;
And yet, as it came on apace.
Each one could scarce his neighbour's face,

Could scarce his own stretched hand, behold.
A secret horror checked the feast.
And chilled the soul of every guest ;
Even the high Dame stood half aghast.
She knew some evil on the blast ;
The elvish page fell to the ground.
And, shuddering, muttered, " Found ! found !

found!"

2 a

186

XXVI.

Then sudden through the darkened air

A flash bf lightning came ;
So broad, so bright, so red the glare.

The castle seemed on flame ;
Glanced every rafter of the hall.
Glanced every shield upon the wall.
Each trophied beam, each sculptured stone.
Were instant seen, and instant gone ;
Full through the guests' bedazzled band
Resistless flashed the levin-brand.
And filled the hall v(^ith smouldering smoke.
As on the elvish page it broke —
It broke, vrith thunder long and loud.
Dismayed the brave, appalled the proud.

From sea to sea the larum rung ;
On Berwick wall, and at Carlisle withal.

To arms the startled warders sprung.
When ended was the dreadful roar.
The elvish dwarf was seen no more !

187

XXVII.

Some heard a voice in Branksome Hall,
Some saw a sight not seen by all ;
That dreadful voice was heard by some,
Cry with loud summons, " Gylbyn, come !
And on the spot where burst the brand.

Just where the page had flung him down.
Some saw an arm, and some a hand.

And some the waving of a gown.
The guests in silence prayed and shook.
And terror dim*d each lofty look :
But none of all the astonished train
Was so dismayed as Deloraine ;
His blood did freeze, his brain did burn,
*Twas feared his mind would ne'er return ;
For he was speechless, ghastly, wan.
Like him of whom the story ran.
Who spoke the spectre-hound in Man.
At length, by fits, he darkly told.
With broken hint, and shuddering cold —

188

That he had seen right certainly,
A shape with amice wrapped around.
With a wrought Spanish baldric bound.

Like a pilgrim from beyond the sea —
And knew — ^but how it mattered not —
It was the wizard, Michael Scott.

XXVIII.

The anxious crowd, with horror pale.
All trembling, ibeard the wonderous tale ;
No sound was made, no word was spoke.
Till noble Angus silence broke ;

And he a solemn sacred plight
Did to St Bryde ef Douglas make.
That he a pilgrimage would take
To Melrose Abbey, for the sake

Of Michael's restless sprite.
Then each to ease his troubled breast.
To some blessed saint his prayers addressed :

189

Some to St Modan made their vows.

Some to St Mary of the Lowes,

Some to the Holy Rood of Lisle,

Some to our Ladye of the Isle ;

Each did his patron witness make.

That he such pilgrimage would take.

And monks should sing, and bells should toll.

All for the weal of Michael's soul.

While vows were ta'en, and prayers were prayed,

'Tis said the noble Dame, dismayed.

Renounced for aye dark magic's aid.

Nought of the bridal will I tell,

Which after in short space befel ;
Nor how brave sons and daughters fair
Blessed Teviot's Flower, and Cranstoun's heir :
After such dreadful scene, 'twere vain
To wake the note of mirth again ;

190

More meet it were to mark the day
Of penitence and prayer divine.

When pilgrim-chiefs, in sad array,
Sought Melrose' holy shrine.

» i . 1 >

With naked foot, and sackcloth vest.
And arms enfolded on his breast.

Did every pilgrim go ;
The standers-bye might hear uneath.
Footstep, or voice, or high-drawn breath.

Through all the lengthened row ;
No lordly look, no martial stride.
Gone was their glory, sunk their pride,

Forgotten their renown ;
Silent and slow, like ghosts, they glide
To the high altar's hallowed side.

And there they kneeled them down :
Above the suppliant chieftains wave
The banners of departed brave ;

191

Beneath the lettered stones were laid
The ashes of their fathers dead ;
From many a garnished nich around.
Stern saints, and tortured martyrs, frowned.

And slow up the dim aisle afar,
With sable cowl and scapular,
And snow-white stoles, in order due.
The holy fathers, two and two.

In long procession came ;
Taper, and host, and book, they bare.
And holy banner, flourished fair

With the Redeemer s name ;
Above the prostrate pilgrim band.
The mitred abbot stretched his hand.

And blessed them as they kneeled ;
With holy cross he signed them all,
And prayed they might be sage in hall,

And fortunate in field.

S B

192

Then mass was suDg, and prayers were said.

And solemn requiem for the dead ;

And bells tolled out their mighty peal.

For the departed spirit's weal ;

And ever in the office close

The hymn of intercession rose ;

And far the echoing aisles prolong

The awful burthen of the song,
Dies irjb, dies illa,
solvet s^clum in favilla ;

While the pealing organ rung;
Were it meet with sacred strain
To close my lay so light and vain,

Thus the holy fathers sung.

XXXII.

HYMN FOR THE DEAD.

That day of wrath, that dreadful day.
When heaven and earth shall pass away,
What power shall be the sinner s stay ?
How shall he meet that dreadful day ?

193

When, sbrivelling like a parched scroll.
The flaming heavens together roll ;
When louder yet, and yet more dread,
Swells the high trump that wakes the dead ;

O ! on that day, that wrathful day.
When man to j udgment wakes from clay.
Be Thou the trembling sinner's stay.
Though heaven and earth shall pass away !

Hushed is the harp — ^the Minstrel gone.

And did he wander forth alone ?

Alone, in indigence and age.

To linger out his pilgrimage ?

No — close beneath proud Newark's tower.

Arose the Minstrel's lowly bower ;

A simple hut ; but there was seen

The little garden hedged with green.

The cheerful hearth, and lattice clean.

194

There sheltered wanderers, by the blaze,
Oft heard the tale of other days ;
For much he loved to ope his door.
And give the aid he begged before.
So passed the winter's day — but still.
When summer smiled on sweet Bowhill,
And July's eve, with balmy breath, -
Waved the blue-bells on Newark heath ;
When throstles sung on Harehead-shaw,
And grain waved green on Carterhaugh,
And flourished, broad, Blackandro's oak.
The aged Harper s soul awoke !
Then would he sing achievements high.
And circumstance of Chivalry,
Till the rapt traveller would stay.
Forgetful of the closing day ;
And noble youths, the strain to hear.
Forsook the hunting of the deer ;
And Yarrow, as he rolled along,
Bore burden to the Minstrel's song.

NOTES.

NOTES

CANTO L

The feast was over in Branksome Tower. — St, I. p. 9*
In the reign of James I. Sir William Scott, of Buccleuch,
chief of the clan bearing that name, exchanged with Sir Thomas
Inglis of Manor, the estate of Murdiestone, in Lanarkshire,
for one half of the barony of Branksome, or Branxholm *,
lying upon the Teviot, about three miles above Hawick. He
was probably induced to this transaction from the vicinity of
Branksome to the extensive domain which he possessed in £t-
tricke forest and in Teviotdale. In the former district he held
by occupancy the estate of Buccleuch -f-, and much of the fo-

* Branxholm is the proper name of the barony ; but Branksome has been
adopted as suitable to the pronunciation^ and more proper for poetry.

f There are no vestiges of any building at Buccleuch^ except the site of a
chapel^ where^ according to a tradition current in the time of Scott of Satchelis^
many of the ancient barons of Buccleuch lie buried. There is also said to have
be^n a mill near this solitary spot ; an extraordinary circumstance, as little or
no #orn grows within several miles of Buccleuch* Satchells says it was used
to grind com for the hounds of the chieftain.

198

rest land on the river Ettricke. In Teviotdale, he held the
barony of Eckford by a grant from Robert II- to his ancestor,
Walter Scott of Kirkurd, for the apprehending of Gilbert Rid-
derford, confirmed by Robert III., 3d May, 1424. Tradition
imputes the exchange hetwixt Scott and Inglis to a conversation
in which the latter, a man, it would appear, of a mi]d and for-
bearing nature, complained much of the injuries which he was
exposed to from the English borderers, who frequently plun-
dered his lands of Branksorae. Sir William Scott instantly of-
fered him the estate of Murdiestone, in exchange for that which
was subject to such egregious inconvenience. When the bar-
gain was completed, he drily remarked, that the cattle in Cum-
berland were as good as those of Teviotdale, and proceeded to
commence a system of reprisals upon the English, which was re-
gularly pursued by his successors. In the next reign, James II.
granted to Sir Walter Scott of Branksome, and to Sir David, his
son, the remaining half of the barony of Branksome, to be held
in blanch for the payment of a red rose. The cause assigned for
the grant is, their brave and faithful exertions in favour of the
king against the house of Douglas, with whom James had been
recently tugging for the throne of Scotland. This charter is
dated the 2d February, 1443 ; and in the same month, part of
the barony of Langholm, and many lands in Lanarkshire, were
conferred upon Sir Walter and his son by the same monarch.

After the period of the exchange with Sir Thomas Inglis,
Branksome became the principal seat of the Buccleuch family.
The castle was enlarged and strengthened by Sir David Scott,
the grandson of Sir William, its first possessor. But in 1570-1,
the vengeance of Elizabeth, provoked by the inroads of Buc-

199

cleuch, and his attachment to the cause of Queen Mary , destroy-
ed the castle, and laid waste the lands of Branksome. In the
same year the castle was repaired and enlarged by Sir Walter
Scott, its brave possessor ; but the work was not completed until
after his death, in I574fy when his widow finished the building.
This appears from the following inscriptions. Around a stone,
bearing the arms of Scott of Buccleuch, appears the following
legend : " Sir W. Scott, of Branxueim Knyt Yoe of
Sir William Scott of Kirkuird Knyt began ye

WORK UPOK YE 24 OF MaRCHE 1571 ZEIR QUHA DEPAR-

tit at God's pleisour ye 17 April 1574/' On a similar
copartment are sculptured the arms of Douglas, with this in-
scription, " Dame Margaret Douglas his spous com-

PLEITIT THE F0R8AID WORK IN OcTOBER 1576/' Ovcr an

arched door is inscribed the following moral verse :

In . VaRLD . IS . NOCHT . NATURE . HES . VROUCHT . YAT . SAL . LEST . AY .

tbarfore . serve . god. keip . veil . ye . ro]> . thy . fame . sal . nocht . dekay •
Sir Valter Scot of Branxholme Knicht. Margaret Douglas 157 !•

Branksome Castle continued to be the principal seat of the
Buccleuch family, while security was any object in the choice
of a mansion. It has been since the residence of the commis-
sioners or chamberlains of the family. From the various al-
terations which the building has undergone, it is not only
greatly restricted in its dimensions, but retains little of the
castellated form, if we except one square tower of massy thick-
ne^, being the only part of the original building which now
remains. The whole forms a handsome modern residence, and

2Q0

is now inhabited by my respected friend, Adam Ogilvy, Esq.
of Hartwoodmyres, commissioner of his Grace the Duke of
Buccleuch.

The extent of the ancient edifice can still be traced by some
vestiges of its foundation, and its strength is obvious, firom the
situation on a steep bank surrounded by the Teviot, and flank-
ed by a deep ravine, formed by a precipitous brook. It was
anciently sunrounded by wood, as appears from the survey of
Roxburghshire, made for Pout's Atlas, and preser\^ed in the
Advocates Library. This wood was cut about fifty years ago,
but is now replaced by the thriving plantations which have
been fbrmed by the noble proprietor, for miles around the an-
cient mansion of his forefathers.

Nine and twenty knights of fame
Hung their shields in Branksome Hall.

St. III. p. 10.

The ancient barons of Buccleuch, both from feudal splen-
dour, and from their frontier situation, retained in their house-
hold, at Branksome, a number of gentlemen of their own name,
who held lands from their chief for the military service of
watching and warding his castle. Satchells tells us, in his dog-*
grel poetry,

No baron was better served into Britain ^

The barons of Buckleugh they kept at their call.

Four and twenty gentlemen in their hall.

All being of his name and kin ;

£ach two had a servant to wait upon them ;

201

Before supper and dinner^ most renowned^

The bells rung and the trumpets sowned^

And more than that^ I do confess^

They kept four and twenty pensioners.

Think not I lie^ nor do me blame^

For the pensioners I can all name.

There's men alive elder than I,

They know if I speak truth or lie ;

Every pensioner a room * did gain^

For service done and to be done ;

This rU let the reader understand^

The name both of the men and land>

Which thfey possessed, it is of truth.

Both from the lairds and lord of Buckleugh.

Accordingly, dismounting from his Pegasus, Satchells gives
us, in prose, the names of twenty-four gentlemen, younger
brothers of ancient families, who were pensioners to the house
of Buccleuch, and describes the lands which each possessed
for his border service. In time of war with England, the gar-

rison was doubtless augmented* Satchells adds, " These
twenty-three pensioners, all of his own name of Scott, and Wal-
ter Gladstanes of Whitelaw, a near cousin of My Lord's, as
aforesaid, were ready on all occasions when his honour plea-
sed cause to advertise them. It is known to many of the
country better than it is to me, that the rent of these lands,
which the lairds and lords of Buccleuch did freely bestow
upon their friends, will amount to above twelve or fourteen

^ Roam, portion of land.

2c •

202

thousand merks a-year." — History of the nafne of Scot, p. 45.
An imniense sum in those times.

And mth Jedwood axe at saddle-bow. — St. V. p. 11.

" Of a truth/* says Froissart, " the Scottish cannot boast great
skill with the bow, but rather bear axes, with which, in time
of need, they give heavy strokes.'* The Jedwood axe was a
sort of partizan, used by horsemen, as appears from the arms
of Jedburgh, which bear a cavalier mounted and armed with
this weapon. It is also called a Jedwood or Jeddart staff.

They watch against Southern force and guile j
Lest ScroopCj or Howard, or Percys powers.
Threaten Branksomes lordly towers.

From TVarkworth, or Naworth, or merry Carlisle.

St. VI. p. 12.

Branksome Castle was continually exposed to the attacks of
the English, both from its situation and the restless military
disposition of its inhabitants, who were seldom on good terms
with their neighbours. The following letter from the Earl of
Northumberland to Henry VIII. in 1533, gives an account of
a successful inroad of the English, in which the country was
plundered up to the gates of the castle. It occurs in the Cot-
ton M . S. CaHg. B. VIII. f. 222.

" Pleasith yt your most gracious highnes to be aduertised that
my comptroller with Raynald Carnaby desyred licence of me
to invade the realme of Scotland, for the annoysaunce of your
highnes enemys, where they thought best exployt by theyme

203

might be done, and to haue to concur withe they me the inha-
bitants of Northumbreland, suche as woas towards me' accord-
ing to theyre assembly, and as by theyre discrecions vppone
the same they shulde-thinke most convenient; and soo they dyd
mete vppon Monday, before nyght, being the iii day of this
instant monethe, at Wawhop, uppon northe Tyne water,
above Tyndaill, where they were to the nombre of xv c men,
and soo invadet Scotland, at the howre of viii of the clok at
nyght, at a place called whele causay ; and before xi of the
clok dyd send forth a forrey of Tyndaill and Ryddisdaill, and
laide all the resydewe in a bushment^ and actyvely dyd set
vppon atowne called Branxhom, where the Lord of 'Buclough
dwellythe, and purpesed theymeselves with a trayne for hym
lyke to his accustomraed maner, in rysynge, to all frayes;
albeit, that nyght he was not at home, and soo they brynt the
said Branxhom, and other townes, as to say Whichestre,
Wbichestre-helme, and Whelley, and haid ordered theyme-
self soo, that sundry of the said Lord Buclough servants whoo
dyd issue fourthe of his gates, was takyn prisoners. They dyd
not leve one house, one stak of corne, nor one sheyf, without
the gate of the said Lord Buclough vnbrynt ; and thus scry-
maged and frayed, supposing the Lord of Buclough to be
within iii or iiii myles to have trayned hym to the bushment ;
and soo in the breyking of the day dyd the forrey and the
bushment mete, and reculed homeward, making theyr way
westward from theyre invasion to be over Lyddersdaill, as in-
tending yf the fray frome theyre furst entry by the Scotts
waiches, or otherwyse by warnyng shulde haue bene gyven to

204

••>^'

Gedworth and the countrey of Scotland theyreabouts of theyre
invasion ; whiche Gedworthe is from the wheles causay, vi
myles, that thereby the Scotts shulde have comen further vnto
they me, and more owte of ordre ; and soo vppon sundry good
consideracons, before they entred Lyddersdaill, as well ac-
compting the inhabitants of the same to be towards your high-
nes, and to inforce iheyme the more therby, as alsoo to put
an occasion of suspect to the kinge of Scotts and his counsaill,
to be takyn anenst theyme, amongs theymeselves, maid pro-
clamacions commaunding vppon payne of dethe, assurance to
be for the said inhabitants of Lyddersdaill, without any pre-
judice or hurt to be done by any Inglyssman vnto theyme, and
soo in good ordre abowte the howre of ten of the clok before
none, vppon Tewsday, tiyd pas through the said Lyddersdaill,
when dyd come diverse of the said inhabitants there to my
servauntes, under the said assurance, efFerring theymeselfs with
any service they couthe make ; and thus, thanks be to Godde,
your highnes' subjects abowte the howre of xii of the clok at
none the same day, came into this youre highness realme,
brynging wt theyme above xl Scottsmen prisoners, one of
theyme named Scot, of the surname and kyn of the said Lord
of Buclough, and of his howsehold ; they brought alsoo ccc
nowte, and above Ix horse and mares, keping in savetie frome
losse or hurte all your said highnes subjects. There- was alsoo
a towne called Newbyggytis, by diverse fotmen of Tyndaill
and Ryddesdaill takyn vp of the nyght, and spoyled, when
was slayne ii Scottsmen of the said towne, and many Scotts
there hurte ; your highnes subjects was xiiii myles within the

^05

grounde of Scotland, and is frome my house of Werkworthe,
above Ix myles of the most evill passage, where great snawes
dothe lye ; heretofore the same townes nowe brynt haith not
at any tyme in the mynd of man in any warrs been enterprised
unto nowe ; your subjects were therto more incouraged for the
better advancement of your highnes service, the said Lord of
Buclough beyng alwais a mortall enemy to this your graces
realme, and he dyd say within xiiii dayes before, he wolde
see who durst lye near hym, wt many other cruell words, the
knowledge whereof was certaynly haid to my said servaunts,
before theyre enterprice maid vppon him, most humbly be-
seeching your maiesty that youre highness thanks may concur
vnto theyme, whose names be here inclosed, and to have in
your most gracious memory, the paynfuU and diligent service
of my pore servaunte Wharton, and thus, as I am most boun-

den, shall dispose wt them that be vnder me f

annoysaunce of your highnes enemy's*

Bards long shall tell

How Lord WaUer fell.St. VII. p. 13.

Sir Walter Scott, of Buccleugh, succeeded to his grand-
father. Sir David, in 1492. He was a brrf^re and powerful
baron, and warden of the west marches of Scotland. His
death was the consequence of a feud betwixt the Scotts and
Kerrs, the history of which is necessary to explain repeated
allusions in the romance.

In the year 1526, in the words of Pitscottie, " The Earl of
Angus, and the rest of the Douglasses, ruled all which they

206

liked, and no man durst say the contrary : wherefore the king
(James V. then a minor) was heavily displeased, and would
fain have been out of their hands, if he might by any way :
And to that effect wrote a quiet and secret letter with his own
hand, and sent it to the laird of Buccleuch, beseeching him
that he would come with his kin and friends, and all the force
that he might be, and meet him at Melross, at his home-
passing, and there to take him out of the Douglasses hands,
and to put him to liberty, to use himself among the lave (rest)
of his lords, as he thinks expedient.

" This letter was quietly directed and sent by one of the king's
own secret servants, which was received very thankfully by the
laird of Buckleuch, who was very glad thereof, to be put to
such charges and familiarity with his prince, and did great di-
ligence to perform the king's writing, and to bring the matter
to pass as the king desired : And to that effect convened all
his kin and friends, and all that would do for him, to ride with
him to Melross, when he knew of the king's home-coming.
And so he brought with him six hundred spears, of Liddisdale,
and Annandale, and countrymen, and clans thereabout, and
held themselves quiet while that the king returned out of Jed-
burgh, and cam^ to Melross, to remain there all that night.

" But when the Lord Hume, Cessfoord, and Ferny hirst (the
chiefs of the clan of Kerr) took their leave of the. king, and re-
turned home, then appeared the laird of Buckleuch in sight,
and his company with him, in an arrayed battle, intending to
have fulfilled the king's petition, and therefore came stoutly
forward on the back side of Halidenhill. By that the Earl of

'307

Angus, with George Douglas, his brother, and sundry other
of his friends, seeing this army coming, they marvelled what
the matter meant ; while at the last they knew the laird of
Buccleuch, with a certain company of the thieves of Annan-
dale ; with him they were less aifeared, and made them man-
iuUy to the field contrary them, and said to the king in this
manner, " Sir, yon is Buccleugh, and thieves of Annandale
with him, to unbeset your Grace from the gate {i. e. interrupt
your passage). I vow to God they shall either fight or flee ;
and ye shall tarry here on this know, and my brother George
with you, with any other company you please ; and I shall
pass, and put yon theives off the ground, and rid the gate un-
to your Grace, or else die for it/' The king tarried still, as
was devised ; and George Douglas, with him and sundry other
lords, such as the earl of Lennox and the lord Erskine, and
some of ihe king's own servants ; but all the lave (rest) past
with the earl of Angus to the field against the laird of Buc-
cleuch, who joyned and countered cruelly both the said par-
ties in the field of Damelinvir *, either against other, with un-
certain victory. But at the last, the Lord Hume, hearing
word of that matter how it stood, returned again to the king
in all possible haste, with him the lairds of Cessfoord and Fair-
nyhirst, to the number of fourscore spears, and set freshly on
the lap and wing of the laird of Buccleugh*s field, and shortly
bare them backward to the ground ; which caused the laird of

* Darnwick, near Melrose. The place of conflict is still called Skinners'
Fields from a corruption of Skirmi^ Field.

Buccleugh, and the rest of his friends, to go back and flee^
whom they followed and chased ; and especially the lairds of
Cessfoord and Faimihirst followed furiouslie, till at the foot of
a path the laird of Cessfoord was slain by the stroke of a spear
by an Elliot, who was then servant to the laird of Buccleugh.
But when the laird of Cessfoord was slain, the chase ceased.
The earl of Angus returned again with great merriness and vic-
tory, and thanked God that he saved him frofn that chance,
and past with the king to Melross, where they remained all
that night. On the mom they past to Edinburgh with the
king, who was very sad and dolorous of the slaughter of the
laird of Cessfoord, and many other gentlemen and yeomen
slain by the laird of Buccleugh, containing the number of
fourscore and fifteen, which died in defence of the king, and at
the command of his writing.'^

In consequence of this battle, there ensued a deadly feud
betwixt the names of Scott and Kerr, which, in spite of all
means used to bring about an agreement, raged for many years
upon the Borders. One of the acts of violence to which this
quarrel gave rise, was, the murder of Sir Walter Scott of Buc-
clench, who was slain by the Kerrs in the streets of Edin-
burgh, in 1552. This is the event alluded to in Stanza VII. ;
and the poem is supposed to open shortly after it had taken
place.

209

No ! vainly to each holy sfirine^

In mutiial pilgrimage^ they drew.- —St, VIII. p. 13.

Among other expedients resorted to for staunching the feud
betwixt the Scotts and the Kerrs, ther6 was a bond executed,
in 1529, between the heads of each clan, binding themselves
to perform reciprocally the four principal pilgrimages of Scot-
land, for the benefit of the souls of those of the opposite name
who had fallen in the quarrel. This indenture is printed in
the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, Vol. I. But either it
never took eflfect, or else the feud was renewed shortly after-
ward.

Such pactions were not uncommon in feudal times; and, as
might be expected, they were often, as in the present case,
void of the effect desired. When Sir Walter Mauny, the re-
nowned follower of Edward III., had taken the town of RyoU,
in Gascony, he remembered to have heard that his father lay
there buried, and offered a hundred crowns to any who could
shew him his grave. A very old man appeared before Sir Wal-
ter, and informed him of the manner of his father's death, and
the place of his sepulture. It seems the lord of Mauny had,
at a great tournament, unhorsed, and wounded to the death, a
Gascon knight of the house of Mirepoix, whose kinsman was
bishop of Cambray. For this deed he was held at feud by
the relations of the knight, until he agreqd to undertake a pil-
grimage to the shrine of St James of Compostella, for the be-
nefit of the soul of -the deceased. But as he returned through
the town of RyoU, after accomplishment of his vow, he was
beset, and treacherously slain by the kindred of the knight,

2 D

210

whom he had killed. Sir Walter, guided by the old man, vi-
sited the lowly tomb of his father ; and, having read the in-
scription, which was in Latin, he caused the body to be raised
and transported to his native city of Valenciennes, where mas-
ses were, in the days of Froissart, duly said for the soul of the
unfortunate pilgrim, — Cronycle of Froyssart^ Vol. I. p. 123.

While Cessford owns the rule of Car. — St. VIII. p. 14.
The family of Ker, Kerr, or Car*, was very powerful on the
Border. Fynes Morrison remarks, in his Travels, that their
influence extended from the village of Preston-Grange, in Lo- I

thian, to the limits of England. Cessford Castle, the ancient
baronial residence of the family, is situated near the village
of Morebattle, within two or three miles of the Cheviot Hills.
It has be^n a place of great strength and consequence, but is
now ruinous. Tradition affirms, that it was founded by Hal-
bert, or Habby Ker, a gigantic warrior, concerning whom ma-
ny stories are current in Roxburghshire. The Duke of Rox-
burghe represents Ker of Cessford. A distinct and powerful
branch of the same name own the marquis of Lothian as their
chief: 'Heiice the distinction betwixt Kerrs of Cessford and
Fairnihirst.

* The name is spelled differently by the various families who bear it. Car
is selected^ not as the most correct^ but as the most poetical reading.

211

Before Lard Cranstotm she should wed. — St. X. p, 15.
The Cranstouns, Lord Cranstoun, are an ancient Border fa-
mily, whose chief seat was at Crailing in Teviotdale. They
were at this time at feud with the clan of Scot; for it appears
that the Lady of Buccleuch, in 1557, beset the laird of Cran-
stoun, seeking his life. Nevertheless the same Cranstoun, or
perhaps his son, was married to a daughter of the same
lady.

Of Bethune's line of Picardie. — St. XI. p. 16.
The Bethunes were of French origin, and derived their name
from a small town in Artois. There were several distinguished
families of the Bethunes in the neighbouring province of Pi-
cardie; they numbered among their descendants the celebrated
Due de Sully ; and the name was accounted among the most
noble in France, while aught noble remained in that country.
The family of Bethune, or Beatoun, in Fife, produced three
learned and dignified prelates ; namely. Cardinal Beaton, and
two successive archbishops of Glasgow, all of whom flourished
about the date of the romance. Of this family was descended
Dame Janet Beaton, Lady Buccleuch, widow of Sir \Valter
Scott of Branksome. She was a woman of a masculine spirit,
as appeared from her riding at the head of her son's clan after
her husband's murder. She also possessed the hereditary abi-
lities of her family in such a degree, that the superstition of
the vulgar imputed them to supernatural knowledge. With
this was mingled, by faction, the foul accusation of her having
influenced Queen Mary to the murder of her husband. One

31S

of the placards preserved in Buchanan's Detection, accuses of
Darnley's murder " the Erie Both well, Mr James Balfour, the
persoun of Fliske Mr David Chalmers, blak Mr John Spens,
wha was principal deviser of the murder ; and the Queue, as-
senting thairto, throw the persuasioun of the Erie Bothwell,
and the witchcraft of the Lady Biickcletich.'*

He learned the arts that none may namCj

In Paduajfar beyond the sea. — St. XI. p. 16.
Padua was long supposed by the Scottish peasants to be the
principal school of necromancy. The Earl of Gowrie, slain at
Perth in 1600, pretended, during his studies in Italy, to have
acquired some knowledge of the cabala, by which he said he
could charm snakes, and work other miracles ; and, in particu-
lar, could produce children without the intercourse of the sexes.
See the examination of Wemyss of Bogie before the Privy
Council, concerning Gowrie's conspiracy.

His form no darkening shadow traced
Upon the sunny wall I — St. XI. p. 16.
The shadow of a necromancer is independant of the sun.
Glyeas informs us, that Simon Magus caused his shadow to go
before him, making people believe it was an attendant spirit.
Heywood's Hierarchic^ p. 475. — ^The vulgar conceive, that
when a class of students have made a certain progress in their
mystic studies, they are obliged to run through a subterraneous
hall, where the devil literally catches the hindmost in the race,
unless he crosses the hall so speedily, that the arch enemy can

213

only apprehend his shadow. In the latter case, the person of
the sage never after throws any shade ; and those, who have
thus lost their shadow^ always prove the best magicians.

The viewless forms of air. — St. XII. p. 16.
The Scottish vulgar, without having any very defined notion
of their attributes, believe in the existence of an intermediate
class of spirits residing in the air, or in the waters ; to whose
agency they ascribe floods, storms, and all such phenomena as
their own philosophy cannot readily explain. They are sup-
posed to interfere in the affairs of mortals, sometimes with a
malevolent purpose, and sometimes with milder views. It is
said, for example, that a gallant Baron, having returned from
the Holy Land to his castle of Drummelziar, found his fair
lady nursing a healthy child, whose birth did not by any
means correspond to the date of his departure. Such an oc-
currence, to the credit of the dames of the crusaders be it spo-
ken, was so rare, as to require a miraculous solution. The lady
therefore was believed, when she averred confidently, that the
Spirit of the Tweed had issued from the river while she was
walking upon its bank, and had compelled her to subnet to his
embraces ; and the name of Tweedie was bestowed upon the
child, who afterwards became Baron of Drummelziar, and chief
of a powerful clan. To those spirits were also ascribed, in Scot-
land, the

— " Airy tonguds, that syllable men's names
On sands^ and shores^ and desert wildernesses."

When the ^vorkmen were engaged in erecting the ancient

S14

church of Old Deer, in Aberdeenshire, upon a small hill call-
ed Bissau, they were surprised to find that the work was im-
peded by supernatural obstacles. At length the Spirit of the
River was heard to say,

It is not here^ it is not here>

That ye shall build the kirk of Deer ;

But on Taptillery^

Where many a corpse shall lie.

The site of the edifice was accordingly transferred to Taptil-
lery, an eminence at some distance from the place where the
building had been commenced. Macfarlains MSS. — ^I men-
tion these popular fables, because the introduction of the
River and Mountain Spirits may not at first sight seem to ac-
cord with the general tone of the romance, and the super-
stitions of the country where the scene is laid.

A fancied moss-trooper, &c. — St. XIX. p. 21.

This was the usual appellation of the marauders upon the
Border ; a profession diligently pursued by the inhabitants on
both sides, and by none more actively and successfully than
by Buccleugh's clan. Long after the union of the crowns,
the moss-troopers, although sunk in reputation, and no longer
enjoying the pretext of national hostility, continued to pursue
their calling.

Fuller includes, among the wonders of Cumberland, " The
moss-troopers; so strange is the condition of their living, if
considered in their Original^ Increase, Height, Decay, and
Ruine.

215

1. ** Original. I conceive them the same called Borderers
in Mr Cambden ; and characterised by him to be, a wild and
warlike people. They are called Moss-troopers^ because dwel-
ling in the mosses, and riding in troops together. They dwell
in the bounds, or meeting, of two kingdoms, but obey the laws
of neither. They come to church as seldom as the 29th of
February comes into the kalendar.

2. " Increase. When England and Scotland were united in
Great Britain, they that formerly lived by hostile incursions,
betook themselves to the robbing of their neighbours. Their
sons are free of the trade by their fathers' copy. They are like
to Job, not in piety and patience, but in suddain plenty and
poverty ; sometimes having flocks and herds in the morning,
none at night, and perchance many again next day. They
may give for their mottoe, lyivitur ex rapto, stealing from their
honest neighbours what they sometimes require. They are a
nest of hornets ; strike one, and stir all of them about your
ears. Indeed, if they promise safely to conduct a traveller,
they will perform it with the fidelity of a Turkish Janizary ;
otherwise, wo be to him that falleth into their quarters !

3. " Height. Amounting forty years since to some thou-
sands. These compelled the vicenage to purchase their se-
oirity, by paying a constant rent to them. When in their
greatest height, they had two great enemies, the laws of the
land J and the Lord William Howard of Naworth. He sent ma-
ny of them to Carlisle, to that place, where the officer always
doth his work by day4ight. Yet these Moss-troopers, if possi-
bly they could procure the pardon for a condemned person of

216

their company, would advance great sums out of their com-
mon stock, who, in such a case, cast in their lots amongst them*
selves^ and all have one purse.

4. " Decay. Caused by the wisdom, valour, and diligence,
of the Right Honourable Charles Lord Howard, Earl of Car-
lisle, who routed these English tories with his regiment. His
severity unto them will not only be excused, but commended,
by the judicious, who consider how our great lawyer doth de-
scribe such persons who are solemnly outlawed. Bracton,
lib. 3. tract. 2. cap. 11. ^Ejc tunc gerunt caput lupinum^ it a quod
sine judiciali inquisitione ritepereant^ et secum suum judicium por-
tent; et merito sine legepereunt qui secundum legem vivere recusa-
runt.* * Thenceforward (after that they are outlawed) they
wear a woolfs head, so that they lawfully may be destroyed,
without any judicial inquisition, as who carry their own con-
demnation about them, and deservedly die without law, be-
cause they refused to live according to law.'

5. " Ruine. Such was the success of this worthy Lord's se-
verity, that he made a thorough reformation amongst them ;
and, the ring-leaders being destroyed, the rest are reduced to
legall obedience, and so, I trust, will continue.*' Fuller's
Worthies of England^ 1662, p. 2l6.

. How the brave boy, in future war^
Should tame the Unicorns pride j

Exalt the Crescent and the Star. — St. XIX. p. 21.
The arms of the Kerrs of Cessford were, Vert on a cheve-
ron, betwixt three unicorns' heads erased argent^ three moUets

217

sable. Crest, an unicorn's head erased proper. The Scolts of
Buccleuch bore, Or on a bend azure ; a star of six points be-
twixt two crescents of the first.

William of Deloraine. — St. XX. p. 22,
The lands of Deloraine are adjoining to those of Buccleuch,
in Ettricke Forest. They were immemorially possessed by the
Buccleuch family under the strong title of occupancy, although
no charter was obtained from the crown until 1545. Like
other possessions, the lands* of Deloraine were occasionally
granted by them to vassals, or kinsmen, for Border-service.
Satchells mentions, among the twenty-four gentlemen-pension-
ers of the family, " William Scott, commonly called Cut at the
Blacky who had the lands of Nether Deloraine for his sendee.'*

■K

And again, "This William of Deloraine, commonly called Cut
at the Blacky was a brother of the ancient house of Haining,
which house of Haining is descended from the ancient house
of Hassandean.'* The lands of Deloraine now give an Earl's
title to the descendant of Henry the second, surviving son of the
Duchess of Buccleuch and Monmouth. I have endeavoured
to give William of Deloraine the attributes which character-
ised the Borderers of his day ; for which I can only plead
Froissart*s apology, that " it behoveth, in a lynage, some to be
folyshe and outrageous, to maynteyne and sustayne the peas-
able.'' As a contrast to my Marchman, I beg leave to tran-

scribe, from the same author, the speech of Amergot Marcell,
a captain of the adventurous companions, a robber, and a pil-
lager of the country of Auvergne, who had been bribed to sell

2 E

218

his strong-holds, and to assume a more honourable military
life under the banners of the Earl of Armagnac. But " when
he remembred alle this, he was sorrowfull his tresour he thought
he wolde not mynysshe, he was wonte dayly to serche for newe
pyllages, wherbye encresed his profyte, and than he sawe that
alle was closed fro' hym. Than he sayde and imagyned, that
to pyll and to robbe (all thynge considered) was a good lyfe,
and so repented hym of his good doing. On a tyme, he said
to his old companyons, * Sirs, there is no sporte nor glory in
this worlde amonge men of warre, but to use suche lyfe as we
have done in tyme past. What a joy was it to us when we
rode' forthe at adventure, and somtyme found by the way a
ryche priour or merchaunt, or a route of mulettes of Mount-
pellyer, of Narbonne, of Lymens, of Fongans, of Besyers, of
Tholous, or of Carcassone, laden with cloth of Brusselles, or
peltre ware comynge fro the fayres, or laden with spycery fro
Bruges, fro Damas, or fro Alysaundre : whatsoever we met,
alle was ours, or els raunsomed at our pleasures : dayly we
gate newe money, and the vyllaynes of Auvergne and of Ly-
mosyn dayly provyded and brought to our castell whete mele,
good wynes, beflFes, and fatte mottons, puUayne and wylde
foule : We were ever fumyshed as tho we had ben kings.
Whan we rode forthe, alle the countrey trymbled for feare :
alle was ours goynge or comynge. Howe toke we Carlast I
and the Bourge of Compayne, and I and Perot of Bemoys
tooke Caluset : howe dyd we scale, with lytell ayde, the strong
castell of Marquell, pertayning to the Earl Dolphyn ; I kept
it nat past fyve days, but I recey ved for it, on a feyre table.

219

fyye thousande frankes, and forgave one thousande for the
love of the Erl Dolphyn's children. By my fayth, this was a
fayre and a good lyfe ; wherefore I repute myselve sore des-
ceyved, in that I have rendred up the fortres of Aloys; for it
wolde have ben kept fro alle the worlde, and the daye that I
gave it up, it was foumysshed with vytaylles to have been
kepte seven yere without any re-vytaylynge. This Erl of Ar-
mynake hath disceyved me : Olyve Barbe, and Perot le Ber-
noys, shewed to me howe I shulde repente myselfe ; certayne
I sore repente myself of that I have done/'— Froissakt, vol.
ii. p. 195.

By wily turns ^ hy desperate hounds^

Had baffled Percys best blood-hounds. — St. XXI. p. 22.
The kings and heroes of Scotland, as well as the Border-
riders, were sometimes obliged to study how to evade the pur-
suit of blood-hounds. Barbour informs us, that Robert Bruce
was repeatedly tracked by sleiith-dogs. On one occasion, he
escaped by wading a bow-shot down a brook, and thus baf-
fled the scent. The pursuers came up :

Rycht to the burn thai passyt ware,
Bot the sleuth-hund made stinting thar.
And waueryt lang tyme ta and fra.
That he na certane gate couth ga \
Till at the last that Jhon of Lorn,
Perseuvit the hund the sleuth had lome.

The Bruce, Buke vii.

A sure way of stopping the dog was to spill blood upon the

220

track, which destroyed the discrimiDating fineness of his scent.
A captive was sometimes sacrificed on such occasions. Hen-
ry the Minstrel tells a romantic story of Wallace, founded on
this circumstance. The hero s little band had been joined by
an Irishman, named Fawdoun, or Fadzean, a dark, savage, and
suspicious character. After a sharp skirmish at Black-Erne
Side, Wallace was forced to retreat with only 16 followers.
The English pursued with a Border sleuth-batchy or blood-
hound.

In Gelderland there was that bratchel bred.

Siker of scent, to follow them that fled ;

So was she used in Eske and Liddisdail,

While (i. e. till) she gat blood no fleeing might avail.

In the retreat, Fawdoun, tired, or afFected to be so, would go
no farther ; Wallace having in vain argued with him, in hasty
anger, struck off his head, and continued his retreat. When
the English came up, their hound stayed upon the dead
body.

The slouth stopped at Fawdoun^ still she stood.
Nor farther would fra time she fund the blood.

The story concludes with a fine scene of Gothic terror. Wal-
lace took refuge in the solitary tower of Gask. Here he was
disturbed at midnight by. the blast of a hom : he sent out his
attendants by two and two, but no one returned with tidings.
At length, when he was left alone, the sound was heard still
louder. The champion descended^ sword in hand ; and at the
gate of the tower was encountered by the headless spectre of
Fawdoun, whom he had slain so rashly. Wallace, in great tep-

ror, fled up into the tower, tore open the boards of a window,
leapt down fifteen feet in height, and continued his flight up
the river. Looking back to Gask, he discovered the tower on
fire, and the form of Fawdoun upon the battlements, dilated
to immense size, and holding in his hand a blazing rafter.
The Minstrel concludes,

Trust right wele, that all this be sooth indeed^
Supposing it be no point of the creed.

The Wallace, Book fifth.

Mr Ellis has extracted this tale as a sample of Henry's poetry.
Specimens of English Poetry^ vol. i. p. 351.

Dimly he viewed the Moat-hiUs mound. — St. XXV. p. 25.
This is a round artificial mount near Hawick, which, from
its name (Mot Arig. Sax. Concilium Conventusjj was probably
anciently used as a place for assembling a national council of
the adjacent tribe. There are many such mounds in Scotland,
apd they are sometimes, but rarely, of a square form.

Beneath the tower of Hazeldean. — St. XXV. p. 25.
The estate of Hazeldean, corruptly Hassendean, belonged
formerly to a family of Scotts thus commemorated by Satch-
ells.

^' Hassenden came without a call.
The ancientest house among them all.^

On Minto^rags the moon-beams glint. — ^St. XXVII. p. 26.

A romantic assemblage of cliffs, which rise suddenly above
the vale of Teviot, in the immediate vicinity of the family-
seat, from which Lord Minto takes his title. A small plat-

222

form, on a projecting crag, commanding a most beautiful
prospect, is termed Bamhills Bed. Tliis Barnhills is said to
have been a robber or outlaw. There are remains of a strong
tower beneath the rocks, where he is supposed to have dwelt,
and from which he derived his name. On the summit of the
crags there are the fragments of another ancient tower, in a
very picturesque situation. Among the houses cast down by
the Earl of Hertforde, in 1545, occur the towers of Easter
Barnhills, and of Minto-crag, with Minto town and place.
Sir Gilbert Elliot, father to the present Lord Minto, was the
author of a beautiful pastoral song, of which the following is
a more correct copy than is usually published. The poetical
mantle of Sir Gilbert Elliot has descended to his family.

My sheep I neglected, I broke my sheep-hook.
And all the gay haunts of my youth I forsook :
No more for Amynta fresh garlands I wove ;
Ambition, 1 said, would soon cure me of love.
But what had my youth with ambition to do i
Why left I Amynta ? Why broke I my vow ?

Through regions remote in vain do I rove.

And bid the wide world secure me from love.

Ah, fool, to imagine, that aught could subdue

A love so well-founded, a passion so true !

Ah, give me my sheep, and my sheep-hook restore.

And I'll wander from love and Amynta no more !

Alas ! 'tis too late at thy fate to repine !

Poor shepherd, Amynta no more can be thine !

Thy tears all are fruitless, thy wishes are vain.

The moments neglected return not again.

Ah ! what had my youth with ambition to do ?

Why left I Amynta ? Why broke I my vow ?

223

Ancient RiddeVsfair domain. — St. XXVIII. p. 27*
The family of Riddell have been very long in possession of
the barony called Riddell, or Ryedale, part of which still bears
the latter name. Tradition carries their antiquity to a point
extremely remote ; and is in some degree sanctioned by the
discovery of two stone coffins, one containing an earthen pot
filled with ashes and arms, bearing a legible date, A. D. 727 ;
the other dated 936, and filled with the bones of a man of gi-
gantic size. These coffins were found in the foundations of
what was, but has long ceased to be, the chapel of Riddell ;
and as it was argued, with plausibility, that they contained
the remains of some ancestors of the family, they were depo-
sited in the more modern place of sepulture, comparatively so
termed, though built in 1110. But the following curious and
authentic documents warrant most conclusively the epithet
of ancient Riddell. 1st, A charter by David I. to Walter Ry-
dale, sheriflF of Roxburgh, confirming all the estates of Lilies-
clive, &c. of which his father, Gervasius de Rydale, died pos-
sessed. 2dly, A bull of Pope Adrian IV. confirming the will
of Walter de Ridale, knight, in favour of his brother Anschit-
til de Ridale, dated 8th April, 1155. 3dly, A bull of Pope A-
lexander III., confirming the said will of Walter de Ridale,
bequeathing to his brother Anschittil the lands of Liliesclive,
Whettunes, &c. and ratifying the bargain betwixt Anschittil
and Huctredus, concerning the church of Liliesclive, in con-
sequence of the mediation of Malcolm II., and confirmed by
a charter from that monarch. This bull is dated 17th June,
1160. 4thly, A bull of the same Pope, confirming the will of

224

Sir Anschittil de Ridale, in favour of his son Walter, conveying
the said lands of Liliesclive and others, dated 10th March,
1120. It is remarkable, that Liliesclive, otherwise Rydale, or
Riddel, and the Whittunes, have descended, through a long
train of ancestors, without ever passing into a collateral line,
to the person of Sir John Buchanan Riddell, bart. of Riddell,
the lineal descendant and representative of Sir AnschitteL,
These circumstances appeared worthy of notice in a Border
work.

As glanced his eye o^er Halidon. — St. XXX. p. 28.
Halidon was an ancient seat of the Kerrs of Cessford, now
demolished. About a quarter of a mile to the northward lay
the field of battle betwixt Buccleuch and Angus, which is
called to this day the Skirmish Field. See the fourth note on
this Canto.

Old Melros^ rose^ and fair Tweed ran. — St. XXXI. p. 29-
The ancient and beautiful monastery of Melrose was found-
ed by King David I. Its ruins afford the finest specimen of
Gothic architecture, and Gothic sculpture, which Scotland
can boast. The stone, of which it is built, though it has re-
sisted the weather for so many ages, retains perfect sharpness,
so that even the most minute ornaments seem as entire as
when newly wrought. In some of the cloisters, as is hinted in
the next Canto, there are representations of flowers, vegeta-
bles, &c. carved in stone, with accuracy and precision so de-
licate, that we almost distrust our senses when we consider the

225

difficulty of subjecting so hard a substance to such intricate
and exquisite modulation. This superb convent was dedica-
ted to St Mary, and the monks were of the Cistercian order.
At the time of the Reformation, they shared in the general re-
proach of sensuality and irregularity thrown upon the Roman
churchmen. The old words of Galashiels^ a favourite Scottish
air, ran thus :

O the monks of Melrose made gude kale*

Qa Fridays when they fasted ;
They never wanted beef nor ale

As long as their neighbour's lasted.

* Kb^ Brotli.

2 P

NOTES

CANTO II-

When silver edges the imagery j

And the scrolk that teach thee to live and die.

St. I. p. 36.
The buttresses ranged along the sides of the ruins of Mel-
rose, are, according to the Gothic stile, richly- carved and
fretted, containing niches for the statues of saints, and la-
belled with scrolls, bearing appropriate texts of Scripture.
Most of these statues have been demolished.

St Davids ruined pile. — St. I. p. 36.

David the first of Scotland purchased the reputation of
sanctity, by founding, and Hberally endowing, not only the mo-
nastery of Melrose, but those of Kelso, Jedburgh, and many
others, which led to the well-known observation of his success
sor, that he was a sore saint for the crown.

228

* Lands and livings^ many a rood.

Had gifted the shrine for their souls repose.-- -St. II. p. 37*
The Buccleuch family were great benefactors to the abbey
of Melrose. As early as the reign of Robert II., Robert Scott,
baron of Murdieston and Rankelbum (now Buccleuch), gave
to the monks the lands of Hinkery, in Ettricke forest, pro sa^
lute anima siub. — Cartulary of Melrose^ 28th May, 1415.

Beneath their feet were the bones of the dead. — St. VII. p. 40.
The cloisters were frequently used as places of sepulture.
An instance occurs in Dryburgh abbey, where the cloister has
an inscription bearing. Hie jacet f rater Archibaldm.

Prayer know I hardly one ;

Save to patter an Ave Mary^ *
When I ride on a Border foray. — St. VI. p. 39*
The Borderers were, as may be supposed, very ignorant
about religious matters. Colville, in his Paranesis^ or Admo^
nition, states, that the reformed divines were so far from un-
dertaking distant joumies to convert the Heathen, " as I wold
wis at God that ye wold only go bot to the Hielands and Bor-
ders of our own realm, to gain our awiri countreymen, who for
lack of preching and ministration of the sacraments, must,
with tyme, becum either infedells, or atheists.** But we learn,
from Lesley, that, however deficient in teal religion, they re-
gularly told their beads, and never with more zeal than when
going on a plundering expedition.

S39

So had he seen^ in fair Castile^

The youth in glittering squadrons start ;

Sudden the Jiying jennet wheels

And hurl the unexpected dart. — St. VIII. p. 40.
** By my fayth," sayd the Duke of Lancaster (to a Portu-
guese squire), " of all the feates of armes that the Castellyans
and they of your countrey doth use, the castynge of their
dartes best pleaseth me, and gladly I wolde se it ; for as I here
say, if they strike one aryght, without he be wel armed, the
dart will perce him thrughe.*' " By my fayth, Sir,'* sayd the
squyer, " ye say trouth ; for I have seen many a grete stroke
given with them, which at one tyme cost us derely, and was
to us great displeasure ; for at the said skyrmishe, Sir John
Laurence of Coygne was striken with a dart in such wise, that
the head perced all the plates of his cote of mayle, and a sacke
stopped with sylke, and passed thrughe his body, so that he
fell down dead.*' Froyssart, vol. ii. ch. 44. — ^This mode of
fighting with darts was imitated in the military game called
Juego de las canas^ which the Spaniards borrowed from their
Moorish invaders. A Saracen champion is thus described by
Froissart : " Among the Sarazyns, there was a yonge knight
calld Agadinger Dolyferne ; he was always wel mounted on a
redy and a lyght horse ; it seemed,'whan the horse ranne, that
he did flye in the ayre. The knighte semed to be a good man
of armes by his dedes, he bare always of usage three fethered
dartes, and rychte well he coulde handle them ; and according
to their custome, he was clene armed with a long white towell
aboute his heed. His apparell was blacke, and his own colour

230

browne, and a good horseman. The Crysten men saye, they
thoughte he dyd such dedes of armes for the love of some
yonge ladye of his countrey. And true it was, that he loved
entirely the king of Thunes' daughter, named the Lady Azala ;
she was enhery tour to the realme of Thunes, after the discease
of the kyng, her father. This Agadinger was sone to the Duke
of Olyfeme. I can nat telle if they were married together
after or nat ; but it was shewed me that this knyght, for love
of the sayd ladye, during the siege, did many feats of armes.
The knyghtes of Fraunce wolde fayne have taken hym ; but
they colde never attrape nor inclose him, his horse was so
swyft, and so redy to his hand, that alwaies he scaped." Vol. ii,

ch.71-

Thy low and lonely umj

gallant chief of Otterbume. — St. X. p. 42.
The famous and desperate battle of Otterbume was fought
15th August, 1388, betwixt Henry Percy, called Hotspur, and
James Earl of Douglas. Both these renowned champions
were at the head of a chosen body of troops, and they were
rivals in military fame ; so that Froissart affirms, " Of all the
bataylles and encountrynges that I have made mencion of here
before in all this hystory, great or smalle, this batayle that I
treat of nowe was one of the sorest and best foughten, without
cowardes or faynte hertes ; for there was neyther knyghte nor
squyer but that dyde his devoyre, and fought hande to hande.
This batayle was lyke the batayle of Becherell, the which was
valiauntlye fought and endured/' The issue of the conflict is

231

well known : Percy was maHe prisoner, and the Septs won the
day, dearly purchased by the death of their gallant general,
the Earl of Douglas, who was slain in the action. He was
buried at Melrose beneath the high altar. " His obsequye
was done reverently, and on his body layde a tombe of stone,
and his baner hangyng over hym.*' — Fboyssabt, Vol. H.
p. 161/ *

Dark knight of Liddesdale. — St. X. p. 42.

William Douglas, called the knight of Liddesdale, flourish-
ed during the reign of David II. ; and was so distinguished by
his valour, that he was called the Flower of Chivalry. Never^
theless, he tarnished his renown by the cruel murder of Sir
Alexander Ramsay of Dalhousie, originally his friend and bro-
ther in arms. The king had conferred upon Ramsay the she-
riffdom of Teviotdale, to which Douglas pretended some claim.
In revenge of this preference, the knight of Liddesdale came
down upon Ramsay, while he was administering justice at
Hawick, seized, and carried him off to his remote and inac-
cessible castle of Hermitage, where he threw his unfortunate
prisoner, horse and man, into a dungeon, and left him to
perish of hunger. It is said, the miserable captive prolonged
his existence for several days by the com which fell from a
granary above the vault in which he was confined *. So weak
was the royal authority, that David, though highly incensed at
this atrocious murder, found himself obliged to appoint the

* There is something affecting in the manner in which the old Prior of

232

knight of Liddesdale successor to his victim, as sheriff of Te-
viotdale. But he was soon after slain, while hunting in Et-
trick Forest, by his own godson and chieftain, William Earl of
Douglas, in revenge, according to some authors, of Ramsay's
murder ; although a popular tradition, preserved in a ballad
quoted by Godscroft, and some parts of which are still pre-
served, ascribes the resentment of the Earl to jealousy. The
place where the knight of Liddisdale was killed, is called, from
his name, Williams-Cross, upon the ridge of a hill called Wil-
liam-hope, betwixt Tweed arid Yarrow. His body, according
to Godscroft, was carried to Lindean church the first night af-
ter his death, and thence to Melrose, where he was interred

# *

with great pomp, and where his tomb is still shewn.

liochlevin turns fxom\!jescribing the death of the gallaat Ramsayj to the gene-
ral sorrow which it excited :

To tell you thare of the manere^

It is hot sorow for til here ;

He wes the grettast menyd man

That ony cowth have thowcht of than>

Of his state^ or of mare be fare ;

All meny t him^ bath bettjr and war ;

The ryche and pure him menyde batb^

For of his dede was mekil skath. «

Some years ago, a person digging for stones^ about the old castle of Hermi--
tage^ broke into a vaults containing a quantity of chaffy some bones^ and pieces
of iron ; amongst others^ the curb of an ancient bridle^ which the author has
since given to the Earl of Dalhousie^ under the impression^ that it possibly may
be a relique of his brave ancestor. The worthy clergyman of the parish has
mentioned this discovery, in his statistical account of the parish of Castleton.

233

The moon on the east oriel shone. — St. XL p. 42.
It is impossible to conceive a more beautiful specimen of the
lightness and elegance of Gothic architecture, when in its pu-
rity, than the eastern window of Melrose abbey. Sir James
Hall of Dunglas, bart. has, with great ingenuity and plausibi-
lity, traced the Gothic order through its various forms, and
seemingly eccentric ornaments, to an architectural imitation
of wicker-work ; of which, as we learn from some of the le-
gends, the earliest Christian churches were constructed. In
such an edifice, the original of the clustered pillars is traced to
a set of round posts, begirt with slender rods of willow, whose
loose summits were brought to meet from all quarters, and
bound together artificially, so as to produce the frame-work of
the roof; and the tracery of our Gothic windows is displayed
in the meeting and interlacing of rods and hoops, affording an
inexhaustible variety of beautiful forms of open work. This
ingenious system is alluded to in the romance. Sir James
Hairs essay on Gothic architecture is published in the Edin-
burgh Philosophical Transactions.

They sat them down on a marble stone^

A Scottish monarch slept below. — St. XII. p. 43.
A large marble stone, in the chancel of Melrose, is pointed
out as the monument of Alexander II., one of the greatest of
our early kings ; others say, it is the resting place of Waldeve,
one of the early abbots, who died in the odour of sanctity.

2 G

234

The wondrom Michael Scott. — St. XIII. p. 43.
Sir Michael Scott of Balwearie flourished during the 13th
century ; and was one of the embassadors sent to bring the
Maid of Norway to Scotland upon the death of Alexander III.
By a poetical anachronism, he is here placed in a later aera.
He was a man of much learning, chiefly acquired in foreign
countries. He wrote a commentary upon Aristotle, printed
at Venice in 1496 ; and several treatises upon natural philo-
sophy, from which he appears to have been addicted to the
abstruse studies of judicial astrology, alchymy, physiognomy,
and chiromancy. Hence he passed among his contemporaries
for a skilful magician. Dempster informs us, that he re-
members to have heard in his youth, that the magic books
of Michael Scott were still in existence, but could not be open-
ed without danger, on account of the fiends who were thereby
invoked. Dempsteri Historia Ecclesiastical 1627, lib. xii. p. 495.
Lesly characterises Michael Scott as " singulari philosophic^
astronomicdj ac medicirut laude prestans ; dicebatur penitissi-
mos magia recussus indagasse!^ A personage, thus spoken of
by biographers and historians, loses little of his mystical fame
in vulgar tradition. Accordingly, the memory of Sir Michael
Scott survives in many a legend ; and in the sbuth of Scot-
land, any work of great labour and antiquity is ascribed, ei-
ther to the agency of Auld Michad^ of Sir William Wallace,
or of the devil. Tradition varies concerning the place of his
burial : some contend for Holme Coltrame, in Cumberland ;
others for Melrose abbey. But all agree, that hi* books of
magic were interred in his grave, or preserved in the convent

235

where he died. Satchells, wishing to give some authority for
his account of the origin of the name of Scott, pretends, that,
in 1629, he chanced to be at Burgh, under Bowness, in Cum-
berland, where a person, named Lancelot Scott, shewed him
an extract from Michael Scott's works, containing that story.

^' He said the book which he gave me^

Was of Sir Michael Scot's historic ;

Which historic was never yet read through.

Nor never will^ for no man dare it do.

Young scholars have pick'd out something

From the contents^ that dare not read within.

He carried me along into the castle then.

And shew'd his written book hanging on an iron pin.

His writing pen did seem to me to be

Of hardened metal, like steel, or accumie ;

The volume of it did seem so large to me.

As the book of martyrs and Turks historic.

Then in the church he let me see

A stone where Mr Michael Scot did lie ;

I asked at him how that could appear,

Mr Michael had been dead above five hundred year f

He shew'd me none durst bury under that stone.
More than he had been dead a few years agone ;
For Mr Michael's name does terrific each one."

History of the Sight Honourahh name of Scot.

Salamanca^s cave. — St, XIII. p. 44.

Spain, from the reliques, doubtless, of Arabian learning and
superstition, was accounte^i a favourite residence of magicians.

^56

Pope Sylvester, who actually imported from Spain the use of
the Arabian numerals, was supposed to have learned there the
magic for which he was stigmatised by the ignorance of his
age. William of Malmeshury^ lib. ii. cap. 10. — ^There were pub-
lic schools, where magic, or rather the sciences supposed to
involve its mysteries,, were regularly taught, at Toledo, Se-
ville, and Salamanca. In the latter city, they were held in a
deep cavern ; the mouth of which was walled up by Queen
Isabella, wife of King Ferdinand. D'Autun on learned Incre-
dulity^ p. 45. — ^The celebrated magician Maugis, cousin to Ri-
naldo of Montalban, called by Ariosto, Malagigi, studied the
black art at Toledo, as we learn from L'Histoire de Matigis
D'Aygremont. He even held a professors chair in the necro-
mantic university ; for so I interpret the passage, " qu'en tons
les sept ars d' enchant ement^ des charmes et conjurations il riy
avoit meilleur maistre que lui ; et en tel renom qu'on le laissoit
en chaiscj et TappelUnt en maistre Maugis!' This Salamancan
Domdaniel is said to have been founded by Hercules. If the
classic reader enquires where Hercules himself learned magic,
he may consult, " Les faicts et processes du noble et vaillant
Herculesy^ where he will leam, that the fable of his aiding At-
las to support the heavens, arose from the said Atlas having
taught Hercules, the noble knight errant, the seven liberal
sciences, and, in particular, that of judicial astrology. Such,
according to the idea of the middle ages, were the studies,
" maximus qtue docuit Atlas. ^^ — In a romantic history of Rode-
ric, the last Gothic king of Spain, he is said to have entered
one of those enchanted caverns. It was situated beneath an

237

ancient tower near Toledo ; and, when the iron gates, which
secured the entrance, were unfolded, there rushed forth so
dreadful a whirlwind, that hitherto no one had dared to pene-
trate into its recesses. But Roderic, threatened with, an inva-
sion of the Moors, resolved to enter the cavern, where he ex-
pected to find some prophetic intimation of the event of the
war. Accordingly, his train being furnished with torches so
artificially composed, that the tempest could not extinguish
them, the king, with great difficulty, penetrated into a square
hall, inscribed all over with Arabian characters. In the midst
stood a colossal statue of brass, representing a Saracen wield-
ing a Moorish mace, with which it discharged furious blows
on all sides, and seemed thus to excite the tempest which
raged around. Being conjured by Roderic, it ceased from
striking until he read, inscribed on its right hand, " Wretched
monarchy for thy evil hast thou come hither ;" on the left hand,
" Thou shalt be dispossessed by a strange people ;" on one shoul-
der, " I invoke the sons of Hagar ;'' on the other, " / do mine
office.^^ When the king had decyphered these ominous inscrip-
tions, the statue returned to its exercise, the tempest commen-
ced anew, and Roderic retired, to moura over the predicted
evils which approached his throne. He caused the gates of
the cavern to be locked and barricaded ; but, in the course of
the night, the tower fell with a tremendous noise, and under its
ruins concealed for ever the entrance to the mystic cavern.
The conquest of Spain by the Saracens, and the death of the
unfortunate Don Roderic, fulfilled the prophecy of the brazen
statue.- —Historia verdadera del Key Don Rodrigo por el sabia

^38

Alcayde Ahulcacim^ traduzeda de la lengua Arabigapor Miquel
de Luna, 1654, cap. vi.

The bells would ring in Notre Dame. — St. XIII. p. 44.
" Tantamne rem tarn negligenter f says Tyrwhitt, of his pre-
decessor Speght ; who, in his commentary on Chaucer, had
omitted, as trivial and fabulous, the story of Wade and his
boat Guingelot, to the great prejudice of posterity ; the memo-
ry of the hero, and the boat, being now entirely lost. That fu-
ture antiquaries may lay no such omission to my charge, I
have noted one or two of the most current traditions concern-
ing Michael Scott. He was chosen, it is said, to go upon an
embassy, to obtain from the king of France satisfaction for
certain piracies committed by his subjects upon those of Scot-
land. Instead of preparing a new equipage and splendid reti-
nue, the embassador retreated to his study, opened his book,
and evoked a fiend in the shape of a huge black horse, mount-
ed upon his back, and forced him to fly through the air to-
wards France. As they crossed the sea, the devil insidiously
asked his rider. What it was that the old women of Scotland
muttered at bed-time ? A less experienced wizard might have
answered, that it was the Pater Noster, which would have li-
censed the devil to precipitate him from his back. But Mi-
chael sternly replied, " What is that to thee } Mount, Diabo-
lus, and fly !'' When he arrived at Paris, he tied his horse to
the gate of the palace, entered, and boldly delivered his mes-
sage. An embassador, with so little of the pomp and circum-
stance of diplomacy, was not received with much respect ;

239

and the king was about to return a contemptuous refusal to
his demand, when Michael besought him to suspend his reso-
lution till he had seen his horse stamp three times. The first
stamp shook every steeple in Paris, and caused all the bells to
ring ; the second threw down three of the towers of the pa-
lace ; and the infernal steed had lifted his hoof to give the
third stamp, when the king rather chose to dismiss Michael
with the most ample concessions, than to stand to the pro-
bable consequences. Upon another occasion, the magician,
having studied so long in the mountains that he became fadnt
for want of food, sent his servant to procure some from the
nearest farm-house. The attendant received a churlish de-
nial from the farmer. Michael commanded him to return to
this rustic Nabal, and lay before him bis cap, or bonnet, re-
peating these words,

Maister Michael Scott's man
Sought meat^ and gat nane.

When this was done and said, the enchanted bonnet be-
came suddenly inflated, and began to run round the house
with great speed, pursued by the farmer, his wife, his servants,
and the reapers, who were on the neighbouring harst rigg. No
one had the power to resist the fascination, or refrain from
joining in pursuit of the bonnet, until they were totally ex-
hausted with their ludicrous exercise. A similar charm occurs
in Huon de BourdeauXy and in the ingenious Oriental tale, call-
ed the Caliph Vathek.

Michael, like his predecessor Merlin, fell at last a victim to
female art. His wife, or concubine, elicited out of him the

240

secret, that his art could ward oflf any danger except the poi-
sonous qualities of broth, made of the flesh of a hreme sow.
Such a mess she accordingly administered to the wizard, who
died in consequence of eating it.

The words that clove Eildon hills in three^
And bridled the Tweed with a curb of stone.

St. XIIL p. 44.
Michael Scott was, once upon a time, much embarrassed by
a spirit, for whom he was under the necessity of finding con^
stant employment. He commanded him to build a cauld^ or
dam-head, across the Tweed at Kelso : it was accomplished in
one night, and still does honour to the infernal architect.
Michael next ordered, that Eildon hill, which was then a uni-
form cone, should be divided into three. Another night was
sufficient to part its summit into the three picturesque peaks
which it now bears. At length the enchanter conquered this
indefatigable daemon, by employing him in the hopeless and
endless task of making ropes out of sea sand.

That lamp shall bum unquenchably . — St. XIV. p. 45.
Baptista Porta, and other authors who treat of natural ma-
gic, talk much of eternal lamps, pretended to have been found
burning in ancient sepulchres. Fortunius licelus investigates
the subject in a treatise, De Lucemis antiquorum reconditis^
published at Venice 1621. One of these perpetual lamps is
said to have been discovered in the tomb of TuUiola, the

241

daughter of Cicero. The wick was supposed to be composed
of asbestos. Kircher enumerates three different receipts for
constructing such lamps ; and wisely concludes, that the thing
is nevertheless impossible. Mundus Subterraneus^ p. 72. — Del-
no imputes the fabrication of such lights to magical skill.
Disquisitiones MagkcB^ p. 58. — In a very rare romance, which
" treateth of the lyfe of Virgilius, and of his deth, and many
marvayles that he dyd in his lyfe-time, by whyche-crafte and
nygramancye, thoroughe the helpe of the devyls of hell,"' men-
tion is made of a very extraordinary process, in which one of
these mystical lamps was employed. It seems, that Virgil, as
he advanced in years, became desirous of renovating his youth
by his magical art. i'or this purpose he constructed a so-
litary tower, having only one narrow portal, in which he pla-
ced twenty-tour copper figures, armed with iron flails, twelve
on each side of the porch. These enchanted statues struck
with their flails incessantly, and rendered all entrance impos-
sible unless when Virgil touched the spring, which stopped
their motion. To this tower he repaired privately, attended
by one trusty servant, to whom he communicated the secret of
the entrance, and hither they conveyed all the magician's trea-
sure. " Then sayde Virgilius, my dere beloved frende, and
lie that I above alle men truste and knowe mooste of my se-
cret ;'* and then he led the man into the cellar, where he had
made a fayer lampe at all seasons bumt/nge. And than sayd
Virgilius to the man, " Se you the barell that standeth here ?*'
and he sayd, yea : " therin must thou put me : fyrste ye must
slee me, and he we me smalle to peces, and cut my hed in iiii

2 H

242

peces, and salte the heed under in the bottum^ and then the
peces there after, and my herte in the myddel, and then set
the barell under the lanipe, that nyghte and day the fat ther-
in may droppe and leake ; and ye shall, ix dayes longe, ones
in the daye, fyll the lampe, and fayle nat. And when this is
alle done, than shall I be renued, and made yonge agen/' At
this extraordinary proposal, the confidant was sore abashed,
and made some scruple of obeying his master's commands.
At length, however, he complied, and Virgil was slain, pickled,
and barrelled up, in all respects according to his own direc-
tion. The servant then left the tower, taking care to put the
copper threshers in motion at his departure. He continued
daily to visit the tower with the same precaution. Meanwhile,
the emperor, with whom Virgil was a great favourite, missed
him from the court, and demanded of his servant where he
was. The domestic pretended ignorance, till the emperor
threatened him with death, when at length he conveyed him
to the enchanted tower. The same threat extorted a disco-
very of the mode of stopping the statues from wielding their
flails. " And then the Emperour entered into the castle with
all his folke, and soughte all aboute in every comer after Vir-
giUus ; and at the last they soughte so longe, that they came
into the seller, where they sawe the lampe hang over the barell,
where Virgilius lay in deed. Then asked the Emperour the
man who had made hym so herdey to put his mayster Virgi-
lius so to dethe ; and the man answered no worde to the Em-
perour. And than the Emperour, with great anger, drewe
oute his swerde, and slewe he there Virgilius* man. And when

243

all this was done, than sawe the Ernperour, and all his folke,
a naked chylde iii tymes rennynge aboute the barell, saynge
these wordes, * cursed be the tyme that ye ever came here !'
And with those wordes vanysshed the chylde awaye, and was,
never sene ageyn; and thus abyd Virgilius in the barell deed/'
Virgilius^ bl. let. printed at Antwerpe by John Doesborcke.
This curious volume is in the valuable library of Mr Douce ;
and is supposed to be a translation from the French, printed
in Flanders for the English market. See Goujtt Biblioth. Franc.
ix. 225. Catalogue de la Bibliotheque Nationale^ torn. ii. p. 5.
De Burcy No. 3857-

He thought y as he took it^ the dead man frowned.

St. XXI. p. 50.
William of Deloraine might be strengthened in this belief by
the well-known story of the Cid Ruy Diaz. When the body of
that famous Christian champion was lying in state, a certain
malicious Jew stole into the chamber to pull him by the beard ;
but he had no sooner touched the formidable whiskers, than
the corpse started up, and half unsheathed his sword. The
Israelite fled ; and so permanent was the effect of his terror,
that he became Christian. Heywood's Hierarchies p. 480.
quoted from Sebastian Cobarruvias Crozce.

The Barons dwarf his courser held. — St. XXXI. p. 56.
The idea of Lord Cranstoun's goblin page is taken from a
being called Gilpin Horner, who appeared, and made some
stay, at a farm-house among the Border-mountains. A gen-

244

tleman of that country has noted down the following particu-
lars concerning his appearance.

" The only certain, at least most probable, account, that
ever I heard of Gilpin Homer, was from an old man of the
name of Andeilson, who was bom, and lived all his life, at
Todshawhill, in Eskdale-muir, the place where Gilpin appear-
ed and staid for some time. He said there were two men, late
in the evening, when it was growing dark, employed in fasten-
ing the horses upon the uttermost part of their ground (that is^
tying their fore-feet together, to hinder them from travelling
far in the night), when they heard a voice, at some distance,
crying, * tint! tint! tint!'* One of the men, named Moffat,
called out, * What de'il has tint you ? Come here/ Immedi-
ately a creature of something like a human form appeared.
It was surprisingly little, distorted in features, and mis-shapen
in limbs. As soon as the two men could see it plainly, they
run home in a great fright, imagining they had met with
some goblin. By the way Moflfat fell, and it run over him,
and was home at the house as soon as any of them, and staid
there a long time ; but I cannot say how long. . It was real
flesh and blood, and ate and drank, was fond of cream, and
when it could get at it, would destroy a great deal. It seem-
ed a mischievous creature ; and any of the children whom
it could master, it would beat and scratch without mercy.
It was once abusing a child belonging to the same Moffat,
who had been so frightened by its first appearance ; and he, in

* Tint signifies lasf^ '

245

a passion, struck it so violent a blow upon the side of the head,
that it tumbled upon the ground : but it was not stunned ;
for it set up its head directly, and exclaimed, * Ah hah. Will
o' Moffat, you strike sair !' (viz. sore). After it had staid there
long, one evening, when the women were milking the cows in
the loan, it was playing among the children near by them,
when suddenly they heard a loud shrill voice cry, three times,
Gilpin Homer! It started, and said, * That is me, I must away;'
and instantly disappeared, and was never heard of more. Old
Anderson did not remember it, but said he had often heard
his father, and other old men in the place, who were there at
the time, speak about it ; and in my younger years I have
often heard it mentioned, and nevei* met with any who had
the remotest doubt as to the truth of the story ; although, I
must own, I cannot help thinking there must be some misre-
presentation in it/' To this account I have to add the fol-
lowing particulars, from the most respectable authority. Be-
sides constantly repeating the word tint! tint! Gilpin Homer ^l.
was often heard to call upon Peter Bertram, or Be-te-ram, as
he pronounced the word; and when the shrill voice called
Gilpin Homer, he immediately acknowledged it as the sum-
mons of the said Peter Bertram, who seems therefore to have
been the devil who had tint, or lost, the little imp.

246

But the Ladye of Branksome gathered a hand
Of the best that would ride at her command.

St. XXXII. p. 58.
Upon 25th June, 1557> Dame Janet Beatoune, Ladj
Buccleugh, and a great number of the name of Scott, delaitit
(accused) for coming to the kirk of St Mary of the Lowes, to
the number of two hundred persons, bodin in feir of weire (ar-
ranged in armour), and breaking open the doors of the said
kirk, in order to apprehend the laird of Cranstoune for his
destruction." On the 20th July, a warrant from the Queen is
presented, discharging the justice to proceed against the Lady
Buccleugh while new calling. Abridgement of Books of Adjour-
nal in Advocates* Library. -^The following proceedings upon this
case appear on the record of the Court of Justiciary : On the
25th of June, 1557> Robert Scott, in Bowhill parish, priest of the
kirk of St Mary*s, accused of the convocation of the Queen's lie-
ges, to the number of 200 persons, in warlike array, with jacks,
helmets, and other weapons, and marching to the chapel of St
Mary of the Lowes, for the slaughter of Sir Peter Cranstoun, out
of ancient feud and malice prepense, and of breaking the doors
of the said kirk, is repledged by the Archbishop of Glasgow.
The bail given by Robert Scott of Allanhaugh, Adam Scott
of Burnefute, Robert Scott in Howfurde, Walter Scott in Tod-
shawhaugh, Walter Scott younger of Synton, Thomas Scott of
Haynyng, Robert Scott, William Scott, and James Scott, bro-
thers of the said Walter Scott, Walter Scott in the Woll, and
Walter Scott, son of William Scott of Harden, and James
Wemys in Eckford, all accused of the same crime, is decla-

247

red to be forfeited. On the same day, Walter Scott of Syn-
ton, and Walter Chisholme of Chisholme, and William Scott
of Harden, become bound, jointly and severally, that Sir Pe-
ter Cranstoun, and his kindred and servants, should receive no
injury from them in future. At the same time, Patrick Mur-
ray of Fallohill, Alexander Stuart, uncle to the laird of Trak-
whare, John Murray of Newhal], John Fairlye, residing in Sel-
kirk, George Tait younger of Pirn, John Pennycuke of Penny-
cuke, James Ramsay of Cokpen, the laird of Fassyde, and the
laird of Henderstoune, were all severally fined for not attending
as jurors. Upon the 20th of July following, Scott of Synton,
Chisholme of Chisholme, Scott of Harden, Scott of Howpaslie^
Scott of Bumfute, with many others, are ordered to appear at
next calling, under the pains of treason. But no farther pro-
cedure seems to have taken place. It is said, that, upon this
rising, the kirk of St Mary was burned by the Scotts.

NOTES

CANTO III.

When, dancing in the mnny heam^

He marked the crane on the Baron's crest. — ^St. IV. p. 6?.
The crest of the Cranstouns, in allusion to their name, is a
crane dormant, holding a stone in his foot, with an emphatic
Border motto, Thou shall want ere I want.

Much he marvelled a knight of pride.
Like a book^somed priest, should ride. — St. VIII. p. 7(X
" At Unthank, two miles N. E. from the church (of Ewes),
there are the ruins of a chappie for divine service, in time of
popery. There is a tradition, that friars were wont to come
from Mellrose, or Jedburgh, to baptize and marry in this pa-
rish ; and, from being in use to carry the mass-book in their
bosomes, they were called by the inhabitants Book-a-^bosomes.

250

There is a man yet alive, who knew old men who had been
baptized by these Book-a-bosomes, and who says one of them,
called Hair, used this parish for a very long time/' — Account of
Parish -of Ewes^ apud Macfarlanes MSS.

It had much of glamour might. — St. IX. p. ^\.
Glamour^ in the legends of Scottish superstition, means the
magic power of imposing on the eye-sight of spectators, so
that the appearance of an object shall be totally different from
the reality. To such a charm the ballad of Johnie Fa' imputes
the fascination of the lovely Countess, who eloped with, that
gypsey leader.

Sae soon as they saw her weel fa'rd face^
They cast the gllunour ower her.

It was formerly used even in war. In 1381, when the
Duke of Anjou lay before a strong castle, upon the coast
of Naples, a necromancer offered to " make the ayre so thycke,
that they within shal thynke that there is a great bridge on
the see (by which the castle was surrounded), for ten men \

to go a front ; and whan they within the castell se this bridge,
they will be so afrayde, that they shall yelde them to your
mercy. The Duke demanded — Fay re Mayster, on this bridge
that ye speke of, may our people assuredly go thereon to
the castell to assayle it ? Syr, quod the enchantour, I dare
not assure you that ; for if any that passeth on the bridge make
the signe of the crosse on hym, all shall go to noughte, and
they that be on the bridge shall fall into the see. Then the

251

Duke began to laugh ; and a certayn of yong knightes, that
were there present, said, Syr, for godsake, let the mayster as-
say his cunning ; we shal leve making of any signe of the
crosse on us for that tyme/' The Earl of Savoy, shortly after,
entered the tent, and recognized, in the enchanter, the same
person who had put the castle into the power of Syr Charles
de la Payx, who then held it, by persuading the garrison of
the Queen of Naples, through magical deception, that the sea
was coming over the walls. The sage avowed himself to be
the same person, and added, that he was the man in the world
most dreaded by Sir Charles de la Payx. " By my fayth,
quod the Erl of Savoy, ye say well ; and I will that Sir Charles
de la Payx shall know that he hath gret wronge to fear you.
But I shall assure hym of you ; for ye shall never do enchaunt-
ment to disceyve hym, nor yet none other. I wolde nat that
in tyme to come we shulde be reproached that in so hygh an
enterprise as we be in, wherein there be so many noble
knyghtes and squyers assembled, that we shulde do any thyng
be enchauntement, nor that we shulde wyn our enemyes by
suche crafte. Than he called to hym a servaunt, and sayd,
go and get a hangman, and let hym stryke of this mayster's
heed without delay ; and as sone as the Erie had commaunded
it, incontynent it was done, for his heed was stryken of before
the Erle*s tent.'' — Froissart, vol. i. ch. 391, 392.

The art of glamour, or ocular fascination, was anciently a
principal part of the skill of the jongleur ^ or juggler, whose
tricks formed much of the amusement of a Gothic castle. Some
instances of this art may be found in the Minstrel^ of the

259

Scottish BordeVy vol. iii. p. 119. In a strange allegorical poem,
called the Houlat, written by a dependant of the house of
Douglas about 1452-3, the jay, in an assembly of birds, plays
the part of the juggler. His feats of glamour are thus descri-
bed.

He gart theme see, as it semyt, in samin houre.

Hunting at herdis in holtis so hair ;
Sonne sailand on the see schippis of toure,
Bemis batalland on burd brim as a bare ;
He could carye the coup of the kingis des,
Sjne leve in the stede,
Bot a blak bunwede ;
He could of a henis hede,
Mak a man mes.

He gart the Emproure trow, and trewlye behald>

That the comcraik, the pimdare at hand.
Had poyndit all his pris hors in a poynd fald.

Because thai eite of the corn in the kirkland.
He could wirk windaris, quhat way that he wald ;

Mak a gray gus a gold garland,
A lang spere of a bittile for a heme bald,
Nobillis of nutschelles, and silver of sand.
Thus joukit with juxters the janglane ja.
Fair ladyes in ringis,
Knychtis in caralyngis,
Bayth dansis and singis.
It semyt as sa.

^53

NoWj if you ask who gave the stroke^

I cannot telly so mot I thrive ;

It was not given by man alive. — St. X. p. 72.
Some writer, upon Daemonology, tells us of a person, who
was very desirous to establish a connection with the invisible
world ; and failing in all his conjurations, began to entertain
doubts of the existence of spirits. While this thought was
passing through his mind, he received, from an unseen hand,
a very violent blow. He had immediately recourse to his ma-
gical arts ; but was unsuccessful in evoking the spirit, who had
made his existence so sensibly felt. A learned priest told him,
long after, that the being who had so chastised his incredulity,
would be the first whom he should see after his death.

The running stream dissolved the spell. — St. XIII. p. 74.
It is a firm article of popular faith, that no enchantment can
subsist in a living stream. Nay, if you can interpose a brook
betwixt you, and witches, spectres, or even fiends, you are
in perfect safety. Bums*s inimitable Tarn o Shanter turns
entirely upon such a circumstance. The belief seems to be
of antiquity. Brompton informs us, that certain Irish wi-
zards could, by spells, convert earthen clods, or stones, into fat
pigs, which they sold in the market ; but which always reas-
sumed their proper form, when driven by the deceived purcha-
ser across a running stream. But Brompton is severe on the
Irish, for a very good reason : " Gens ista spurcissima non sol-
vunt decimas.'^ Chronicon Johannis Brompton apud decern Scrip-
toresy p. 1076.

254

His buckler scarce in breadth a span^

No larger fence had he;
He never counted him a man^

Would strike below the knee. — St. XVII. p. 78.
Imitated from Drayton's account of Robin Hood and hi^
followers.

A hundred valiant men had this brave Robin Hood^
Still ready at his call^ that bowmen were right good ;
All clad in Lincoln green^ with caps of red and blue^
His fellow's winded horn not one of them but knew.
When setting to their hps there little bugles shrilly
The warbling echoes waked from every dale and hill ;
Their bauldrics set with studs athwart their shoulders cast^
To which under their arms their sheafs were buckled fast.
A short sword at their belt^ a buckler scarce a span^
Who struck below the knee not counted then a man.
All made of Spanish yew> their bows were wondrous strong.
They not an arrow drew but was a clothyard long ;
Of archery they had the very perfect crafty
With broad arrow, or but^ or prick^ or roving shaft.

Pofy-O/Wcw, Song 26.

To wound an antagonist in the thigh, or leg, was reckoned
contrary to the law of arms. In a tilt betwixt Gawain Mi-
chael, an English squire, and Joachim Cathore, a Frenchman,
" they met at the speare poyntes rudely : the French squyer
justed right plesantly ; the Englyshman ran too lowe, for he
strake the Frenchman depe into the thygh. Wherwith the
Erie of Buckingham was ryght sore displeased, and so were all
the other lordes, and sayde how it was shamefully rone.

255

Frotssart, vol. i. ch. 366. — Upon a similar occasion, " the
two knights came a fote eche agaynst other rudely, with their
speares lowe couched, to stryke eche other within the foure
quarters. Johan of Castell-Morante strake the Englysh squyer
on the brest in such wyse, that Sir Wyll^am Femieton stom-
bled and bowed, for his fote a lytell fayled him. He helde his
speare lowe with bothe his handes, and coude nat amende it,
and strake Sir Johan of the Castell-Morant in the thyghe, so
that the speare went clene throughe, that the heed was sene a
handfull on the other syde. And Syre Johan with the stroke
reled, but he fell nat. Than the Englyshe knyghtes and
squyers were ryghte sore displeased, and sayde howe it was a
foule stroke. Syr Wyllyam Fermytone excused himselfe, and
sayde howe he was sorie of that adventure, and howe that yf
he had knowen that it shulde have bene so, he wolde never
have begon it; sayenge howe he coude nat amende it, by
cause of glaunsing of his fote by constraynt of the great stroke
that Syr John of the Castell-Morant had given him." Ibid.
ch. 373.

And with a charm she stanched the blood.

St. XXIII. p. 82.
See several charms for this purpose in Reginald Scot's Dw-
coverie of Witchcraft^ p. 273.

Tom Pots was but a serving man>

But yet he was a doctor good ;
He bound his handkerchief on the wound.

And with some kinds of words he staunched the blood.

Fieces of ancient popular Poetry, London, 1791> p. 131.

^56

But she has taen the broken laiice^
And washed it from the clotted gore,
And salved the splinter o'er and o'er. — St. XXIII. p. 82.
Sir Kenelm Digby, in a discourse upon the cure by sympa-
thy, pronounced at Montpeher, before an assembly of nobles
and learned men, translated into English by R. White, gentle-
man, and published in 1658, gives us the following curious
surgical case.

" Mr James Howel (well known in France for his public
works, and particularly for his Dendrologies translated into
French by Mons. Baudouin) coming by chance, as two of his
best friends were fighting in duel, he did his endeavour to
part them ; and putting himselfe between them, seized, with
his left hand, upon the hilt of the sword of one of the comba-
tants, while, with his right hand, he laid hold of the blade of
the other. They, being transported with fury one against the
other, strugled to rid themselves of the hindrance their friend
made that they should not kill one another ; and one of them
roughly drawing the blade of his sword, cuts to the very bone
the nerves and muscles of Mr Howel's hand ; and then the
other disengaged his hilts, and gave a crosse blow on his ad-
versarie's head, which glanced towards his friend, who heaving
up his sore hand to save the blow, he was wounded on the
back of his hand as he had been before within. It seems some
strange constellation raigned then against him, that he should
lose so much bloud by parting two such dear friends, who,
had they been themselves, would have hazarded both their
lives to have preserved his : but this unvoluntary effusion of

257

bloud by them, prevented that which they should have drawn
one from the other. For they, seeing Mr Howels face be-
smeared with blood, by heaving up his wounded hand, they
both run to embrace him ; and having searched his hurts, they
bound up his hand, with one of his garters, to close the veins
which were cut, and bled abundantly. They brought him
home,, and sent for a surgeon. But this being heard at court,
the king sent one of his own surgeons ; for his majesty much
affected the said Mr Howel.

** It was my chance to be lodged hard by him ; and four or
five dayes after, as I was making myself ready, he came to my
house, and prayed me to view his wounds ; * for I understand,'
said he, * that you have extraordinary remedies on such occa-
sions, and my surgeons apprehend some fear that it may grow
to a gangrene, and so the hand must be cut off.' In effect, his
countenance discovered that he was in much pain, which he
said was insupportable, in regard of the extream inflammation.
I told him I would willingly serve him ; but if haply he knew
the manner how I would cure him, without touching or seeing
him, it may be he would not expose himself to my manner of
curing, because he would think it, peradventure, either ineffec-
tual, or superstitious. He replied, ** The wonderfuU things
which many have related unto me of your way of medecine-
ment, makes me nothing doubt at all of its efficacy ; and all
that I have to say unto you is comprehended in the Spanish
proverb, Hagase el milagro y hagalo Mahomaj let the miracle
be done though Mahomet do it."

2 K

258

" I asked him then for any thing that had the blood upon it ;
so he presently sent for his garter, wherewith his hand was first
bound ; and as I called for a bason of water, as if I would
wash my hands, I took a handfuU of powder of vitriol, which
I had in my study, and presently dissolved it. As soon as the

•

bloudy garter was brought me, I put it within the bason, ob-
serving, in the interim, what Mr Howel did, who stood talking
with a gentleman in a corner of my chamber, not regarding
at all what I was doing ; but he started suddenly, as if he had
found some strange alteration in himself. I asked him what
he ailed ? " I know not what ailes me ; but I finde that I feel
no more pain. Methinks that a pleasing kinde of freshnesse,
as it were a wet cold napkin, did spread over my hand, which
hath taken away the inflammation that tormented me be-
fore." I replyed, " Since then that you feel already so good
eflect of my medicament, I advise you to cast away all
your plays ters ; only keep the wound clean, and in a mode-
rate temper betwixt heat and cold."' This was presently re-
ported to the Duke of Buckingham, and a little after to the
king, who were both very curious to know the circumstance of
the businesse, which was, that after dinner I took the garter
out of the water, and put it to dry before a great fire. It was
scarce dry, but Mr HoweFs servant came running, that his
master felt as much burning as ever he had done, if not more ;
for the heat was such as if his hand were twixt coles of fire. I
answered, although that had happened at present, yet he
should find ease in a short time ; for I knew the reason of this
new accident, and would provide accordingly ; for his master

S59

should be free from that inflammation, it may be before he
could possibly return to him : but in case he found no ease, I
/Wished him to come presently back again ; if not, he might
forbear coming. Thereupon he went ; and at the instant I
did put again the garter into the water, thereupon he found
his master without any pain at alL To be brief, there was no
sense of pain afterward ; but within five or six dayes the
woundes were cicatrized, and entirely healed." p. 6.

The king (James VI.) obtained from Sir Kenelm the disco-
very of his secret, which he pretended had been taught him
by a Carmelite friar, who had learnt it in Armenia or Persia.
Let not the age of animal magnetism and metallic tractors ^
smile at the sympathetic powder of Sir Kenelm Digby. Re-
ginald Scot mentions the same mode of cure in these terms :
" And that which is more strange . . . they can remedie anie
stranger with that verie sword wherewith they are wounded.
Yea, and that which is beyond all admiration, if they stroke
the sword upwards with their fingers, the partie sha^ feele no
pain ; whereas, if they draw their fingers downwards, thereupon
the partie wounded shall feele intolerable pain.'' I presume
that the success ascribed to the sympathetic mode of treat-
ment might arise from the pains bestowed in washing the
wound, and excluding the air, thus bringing on a cure by the
fitst intention. It is introduced by Dryden in the Enchanted
Island^ a (very unnecessary) alteration 'of the Tempest.

Ariel. Anoint the sword which pierced him with this
Weapon-salve, and wrap it close from air.
Till I have time to visit him again. — jict v. sc. 2.

260

Again, in scene 4th, Miranda enters with Hippolito's sword
wrapt up.

Hip. O my wound pains me. [She unwraps the sword.

Mir. I am come to ease you.

H^. Alas^ I feel the cold air come to me ;
My wound shoots worse than ever,

Mir. Does it still grieve you ? [She wipes and anoints the sword.

Hip. Now^ methinks, there's something laid just upon it.

Mir. Do you find no ease ?

Hip. Yes, yes ; upon the sudden all this pain
la leaving me. Sweet heaven, how I am eased !

On Pencryst glows a hale ofjire^

And three are kindling on Priest haughswire.

St. XXVI. p. 85.
The border beacons, from their number and position, formed
a sort of telegraphic communication with Edinburgh. The act
of parliament 1455, c. 48, directs that one bale or faggot shall
be warning of the approach of the English in any manner ;
two bales that they are coming indeed; four bales, blazing
beside each other, that the enemy are in great force. " The
same taikenings to be watched and maid at Eggerhope Castle,
fra they se the fire of Hume, that they fire richt swa. And in
like manner on Sowtra edge, sail se the fire of Eggerhope Cas-
tell, and mak taikening in like maner : And then may all
Louthiane be warned, and in special the Cartel of Edinburgh;
and their four fires to be maid in like maner, that they in Fife,
and fra Striviling east, and the east part of Louthiane, and to

261

Dumbar, all may se them, and come to the defense of the
realme/' These beacons (at least in later times) were " a long
and strong tree set up with a long iron pole across the head of
it, and an iron brander fixed on a stalk in the middle bf it,
for holding a tar-barrel/' Stevenson's History^ \. II. p. 701.

Our kin and clan and friends to raise.

St. XXVI. p. 85.

•

The speed with which the borderers collected great bodies
of horse, may be judged of from the following extract, when
the subject of the rising was much less important than that
supposed in the romance. It is taken from Carey's Memoirs.

" Upon the death of the old Lord Scroope, the queen gave
the west wardenry to his son, that had married my sister. He,
having received that office, came to me with great earnestness,
and desired me to be his deputy, offering me that I should
live with him in his house : that he would allow me half a
dozen men, and as many horses, to be kept at his charge; and
his fee being 1000 marks yearly, he would part it with me,
and I should have the half. This his noble offer I accepted
of, and went with him to Carlisle ; where I was no sooner
come, but I entered into ray office. We had a stirring time of

it ; and few days past over my head but I was on horseback,

either to prevent mischief, or to take malefactors, and to bring
the border in better quiet than it had been in times past. One
memorable thing of God's mercy shewed unto me was such,
as I have good cause still to remember it.

262

^* I had private intelligence given me, that there were two
Scottish men, that had killed a churchman in Scotland, and
were by one of the Grames relieved. This Grame dwelt with-
in five miles of Carlisle. He had a pretty house, and close by
it a strong tower, for his own defence in time of need. About
two o'clock in the morning, I took horse in Carlisle, and not
above 25 in my company, thinking to surprise the house on a
sudden. Before I could surround the house, the two Scotts
were gotten in the strong tower, and I could see a boy riding
from the house as fast as his horse could carry him ; I little
suspecting what it meant. But Thomas Carleton came to me
presently, and told me, that if I did not presently prevent it,
both myself and all my company would be either slain, or ta-
ken prisoners. It was strange to me to hear this language. He
then said to me, * Do you see that boy that rideth away so
fast ? He will be in Scotland within this half hour ; and he is
gone to let them know, that you are here, and to what end
you are come, and the small number you have with you ; and
that if they will make haste, on a sudden they may surprise
us, and do with us what they please/ Hereupon we took ad-
vice what was best to be done. We sent notice presently to
all parts to raise the country, and to come to us with all the
speed they could ; . and withal we sent to Carlisle to raise the
townsmen ; for without foot we could do no good against the
tower. There we staid some hours, expecting more company;
and within short time after the country came in on all sides,
so that we were quickly between three and four hundred

\
\

263

horse ; and after some longer stay, the foot of Carlisle came
to us, to the number of three or four hundred men; whom we
set presently at work, to get up to the top of the tower, and
to uncover the roof; and then some twenty of them to fall
down together^ and by that means to win the tower. The
Scots seeing their present danger, offered to parley, and yield-
ed themselves to my mercy. They had no sooner opened the
iron gate, and yielded themselves my prisoners, but we might
see 400 horse within a quarter of a mile coming to their res-
cue, and to surprise me and my small company ; but of a sud-
den they stayed, and stood at gaze. Then had I more to do
than ever ; for all our Borderers came crying with full mouths,
* Sir, give us leave to set upon tl^m ; for these are they that
have kDled our fathers, our brothers, and uncles, and our cou-
sins ; and they are come thinking to surprise you, upon weak
grass nags, such as they could get on a sudden ; and God
hath put them into your hands, tliat we may take revenge
of them for much blood that they have spilt of ours/ I de-
sired they would be patient a while, and bethought myself, if
I should give them their will, there would be few or none of
the Scots that would escape unkilled (there were so many
deadly feuds among them); and therefore I resolved with
myself to give them a fair answer, but not to give them their
desire. So I told them, that if I were not there myself, they
might then do what pleased themselves ; but being present, if
I should give them leave, the blood that should be spilt that
day would lie very hard upon my conscience. And therefore

264

I desired them, for my sake, to forbear ; and if the Scots did
not presently make away with all the speed they could, upon
my sending to them, they should then have their wills to dp
what they pleased. They were ill satisfied with njy answer,
but durst not disobey. I sent with speed to the Scots, and
bade them pack away with all the speed they could ; for if
they stayed the messenger's return, they should few of them re-
turn to their own home. They made no stay ; but they were
turned homewards before the messenger had made an end of
his message. Thus, by God's mercy, I escaped a great dan-
ger ; and, by my means, there were a great many men's lives
saved that day."

On many a cairns grey pyramid^

Where urns of mighty chiefs lie hid.

St. XXVIII. p. 87.
The cairns^ or piles, of loose stone, which crown the summit
of most of our Scottish hills, and are found in other remark-
able situations, seem usually, though not universally, to have
been sepulchral monuments. Six flat stones are commonly
found in the centre, foniiing a cavity of greater or smaller di-
mensions, in which an urn is often placed. The author is pos-
sessed of one discovered beneath an immense cairn at Rough-
lee, in Liddesdale. It is of the most barbarous construction ;
the middle of the substance alone having been subjected to the
fire, over which, when hardened, the artist had laid an inner
and outer coat of unbaked clay, etched with some very rude

Q65

ornaments ; his skill apparently being inadequate to baking
the vase when completely finished. The contents were bones
and ashes, and a quantity of beads made of coaL This seems
to have been a barbarous imitation of the Roman fashion of
sepulture.

2 L

NOTES

CANTO IV.

Great Dundee. — St. II, p. 94.
The viscount of Dundee, slain in the battle of Killycrankie.

-For sheltering marsh and cavemed celly

The feasant leaves his hwly shed. — St. III. p. 95.
The morasses were the usual refuge of the Border herdsmen,
on the approach of an English army. {Minstrelsy of the Scottish
Border J Vol. I. p. 49.) Caves hewed in the most dangerous and
inaccessible places also aflforded an occasional retreat. Such ca-
verns may be seen in the precipitous banks of the Teviot at
Sunlaws and Ancram, upon the Jed at Hundalee, and in many
other places upon the Border. The banks of the Eske, at Gor-
ton and Hawthomden, are hollowed into similar recesses. But
even these dreary dens were not always secure places of con-

268

cealment. " In the way as we came, not far from this place (Long
Niddry) George Ferrers, a gentleman of my Lord Protector's .. •
happened upon a cave in the ground, the mouth whereof was
so worne with the fresh printe of steps, that he seemed to be
certayne thear wear sum folke within ; and gone doune to trie,
he was redily receyved with a hakebut or two. He left them
not yet, till he had knowen whyther thei would be content to
yelde and cum out, whiche they fondly refusyng, he went to
my lorde s grace, and upK)n utteraunce of the thynge, gat li-
sence to deale with them as he coulde ; and so returned to
them, with a skore or two of pioners. Three ventes had their
cave, that we wear ware of, wherof he first stopt up on; anoo-
ther he fiFd ful of strawe, and set it a fyer, wherat they within,
cast water apace ; but it was so wel maynteyned without, that
the fyer prevayled, and thei within fayn to get them belyke
into anoother parler. Then devised we (for I hapt to be with
hym) to stop the same up, whereby we should ey ther smoother
them, or fynd out their ventes, if thei hadde any moe : as this
was doon at another issue, about a xii score of, we moughte
see the fume of their smoke to come out ; the which conti*
nued with so great a force, and so long a while, that we could
not but thinke they must needs get them out, or smoother
within ; and forasmuch as we found not that they dyd the
tone, we thought it for certain thei wear sure of the toother.
Patten's Account of Somerset' s Expedition into Scotland^ apud
Da Lz el's Fragments.

269

Southern ravage. — St. III. p. 95.

From the following fragment of a letter from the earl of
Northumberland to King Henry VIII. presei^ved among the
Cotton MSS. Calig. B. vii. 179> the reader may estimate the
nature of the dreadful war which was occasionally waged upon
the borders, sharpened by mutual cruelties, and the personal
hatred of the wardens or leaders.

Some Scottish barons, says the earl, had threatened to come
within " thre miles of my pore house of Werkworthe, wher I lye,
and gif me light to put on my clothes at mydnyght ; and alsoo
the said Marke Carr said there opynly, that seyng they had a
governor on the marches of Scotland, as well as they haid in
Ingland, he shulde kepe your highnes instructions, gyffyn unto
your garyson, for making of any day-forrey ; for he and his
friends wolde burne enough on the nyght, leltyng your coun-
saill here defyne a notable acte at theyre pleasures. Upon
whiche, in your highnes' name, I comaundet dewe watche to
be kepte on your marchies, for comyng in of any Scotts,
Neutheless, upon Thursday at nyght last, came thyrty light
horsemen unto a litill village^ of myne, called Whitell, having
not past sex howses, lying toward Ryddisdaill, upon Shilbotell
more, and ther wold have fyred the said howses, but ther was
noo fyre to get ther, and they forgate to brynge any withe
theyme ; and toke a >vyf, being great with chylde, in the said
towne, and said to hyr, Wher we can not gyve the lard lyght,
yet we shall doo this in spyte of hym ; and gave hyr iii mor-
tall wounds upon the heid, and another in the right side, with
a dagger : wheruppon the said wyf is dede, and the childe in

270

hyr bely is loste. Beseching your most gracious highness to
reduce unto your gracious memory this wylfuU and shameful!
murder, done within this your highnes' realme, notwithstand-
ing all the inhabitants thereabout rose unto the said fray, and
gave warnynge by becons unto the contrey afore theyme, and
yet the Scottsmen dyde escape. And uppon certeyne know-
ledge to my brother ClyfForthe and me, had by credable per-
sons of Scotland, this abomynable act not only to be done by
dy verse of the M ershe, but also the afore named persons of
Tyvidaill, and consented to, as by apparaunce, by the erle of
Murey, upon Friday at nyght last, let slyp C of the best horse-
men of Glendaill, with a part of your highnes' subjects of Ber-
wyke, together with George Dowglas, whoo came into Ing-
land agayne, in the dawing of the day ; but afore theyre re-
tome, they dyd mar the erle of Murrei's provisions at Colding-
ham ; for they dyd not only burne the said towne of Colding-
ham, with all the come therunto belonging, which is estemed
wurthe cii marke Sterling j but alsoo burned twa townes nye
adionig therunto, called Branerdergest and the Black Hill,
and toke xxiiii persons, Ix horse, with cc hed of cataill, whiche
nowe, as I am informed, hathe not only bene a staye of the
said Erie of Murrei's not comyng to the bordur as yet, but
alsoo, that none inlande man will adventure theyre selfs uppon
the marches. And as for the tax that shulde have bene
grauntyd for fynding of the said iii hundred men, is utterly
denyed. Upon whiche the king of Scottland departed from
Edynburgh to Stirling, and as yet ther doth remayn. And
alsoo 1, by the advice of my brother Clyffortbe, have devysed

-271

that within this iiii nyghts, Godde wylling, Kelsey, in lyke
case, shal be brent, with all the corne in the said town ; and
then they shall have noo place to lye any garyson in, nygh
unto the borderes. And as I shall atteigne further knawledge,
I shall not faill to satisfye your highness, according to my most
bounden dutie. And for this bumyng of Kelsey is devysed to
be done secretly, by Tyndaill and Ryddisdale. And thus the
holy Trynite and * * * your most royal estate, with long
lyf and as moche increase of honour as your most noble heart
can desire. At Werkworth^ the xxiiM day of October. (1522.)

Wat Tinlinn.—St. IV. p. 95.
This person was, in my younger days, the theme of many a
fireside tale. He was a retainer of the Buccleuch family, and
held for his Border service a small tower on the frontiers of
Liddesdale. Wat was by profession a sutoTy but by inclina-
tion and practice, an archer and warrior. Upon one occasion,
the Captain of Bewcastle, military governor of that wild dis-
trict of Cumberland, is said to have made an incursion into
Scotland, in which he was defeated, and forced to fly. Wat
Tinlinn pursued him closely through a dangerous morass : the
captain, however, gained the firm ground ; and seeing Tinlinn
dismounted, and floundering in the bog, used these words of
insult, ** Sutor Wat, ye cannot sew your boots ; the heels risp^
and the seams rive *.'' " If I cannot sew,'* retorted Tinlinn,

• Risp, creak. Rhe, tear.

272

discharging a shaft which nailed the captain's thigh to his
saddle, " If I cannot sew, I can yerk */'

Bilhope Stag. — St. V. p. 96.
There is an old rhime which thus celebrates the places in
Liddesdale, remarkable for game.

Bilhope braes for bucks and raes.

And Carit haugbs for sw^ine^
And Tarras for the good ball-trout^

If he be ta'en in time.

The bucks and roes, as well as the wild swine, are now ex-
tinct ; but the good bull-trout is still famous.

Of silver broach and bracelet proud. — ^St. V. p. 97.
As the Borderers were indifferent about the furniture of
their habitations, so much exposed to be burned and plunder-
ed, they were proportionally anxious to display splendour in
decorating and ornamenting their females. See Lesly de
Moribus Limitaneorum.

Belted Will Howard.—St. VI. p. 97.
Lord William Howard, third son of Thomas, duke of Nor-
folk, succeeded to Naworth Castle, and a large domain an-
nexed to it, in right of his wife Elizabeth, sister of George
Lord Dacre, who died without heirs male, in the 11th of
Queen Elizabeth.. By a poetical anachronism, he is introdu-

* Yerk — to twitch^ as shoemakers do^ in securing the stitches of their work.

273

ced into the romance a few years earlier than he actually flou-
rished. He was warden of the Western Marches ; and from
the rigour with which he repressed the Border excesses, the
name of Belted Will Howard is still famous in our traditions.
In the castle of Naworth, his apartments, containing a bed-
room, oratory, and library, are still shewn. They impress us
with an unpleasing idea of the life of a lord warden of the
marches. Three or four strong doors, separating these rooms
from the rest of the castle, indicate apprehensions of treache-
ry from his garrison ; and the secret winding passages through
which he could privately descend into the guard-room, or even
into the dungeons, imply the necessity of no small degree of
secret superintendance on the part of the governor. As the
ancient books and furniture have remained undisturbed, the
venerable appearance^ of these apartments, and the armour
scattered around the chamber, almost lead us to expect the
arrival of the warden in person. Naworth castle is situated
near Brampton, in Cumberland. Lord William Howard is
ancestor of the earb of Carlisle.

Lord Dacre. — St. VI. p. 97.
The well-known name of Dacre is derived from the exploits
of one of their ancestors at the siege of Acre or Ptolemais, un-
der Richard Coeur de Lion. There were two powerful branches
of that name. The first family, called Lord Dacres of the
south, held the castle of the same name, and are ancestors to
the present Lord Dacre. The other family, descended from
the same stock, were called Lord Dacres of the north, and

2 M

274

were barons of Gilsland and Graystock. A chieftain of the
latter branch was warden of the west marches during the reign
of Edward VI. He was a man of a hot and obstinate charac-
ter, as appears from some particulars of Lord Surrey's letter to
Henry VIH. giving an account of his behaviour at the siege
and storm of Jedburgh. It is printed in the Minstrelsy of the
Scottish Border^ Appendix to the Introduction.

The German hagbut-men. — St. VI. p. 98.
In the wars with Scotland, Henry VIH. and his successors
employed numerous bands of mercenary troops. At the bat*
tie of Pinky, there were in the English army six hundred hack-
butters on foot, and two hundred on horseback, composed
chiefly of foreigners. On the 27th September, 1549, the duke
of Somerset, Lord Protector, writes to ^he Lord Dacre, war-
den of the west marches: "The Almains, in number two
thousand, very valiant soldiers, shall be sent to you shortly from
Newcastle, together with Sir Thomas Holcroft, and with the
force of your wardenry (which we would were advanced to the
most strength of horsemen that might be), shall make the at-
tempt to Loughmaben, being of no such strength but that it
may be skailed with ladders, whereof, beforehand, we would
you caused secretly some number to be provided ; or else un-
dermined with the pyke-axe, and so taken : either to be kept
for the king s majesty, or otherwise to be defaced, and taken
from the profits of the enemy. And in like manner the
house of Carlaverok to be used.*' Repeated mention occurs
of the Almains, in the subsequent correspondence ; and the

275

enterprize seems finally to have been abandoned from the dif-
ficulty of providing these strangers with the necessary " victuals
and carriages'' in so poor a country as Dumfries-shire. History
of Cumberland^ Vol. I. Introd. p. Ixi. From the battle-pieces
of the ancient Flemish painters, we leam that the Low Coun-
try and German soldiers marched to an assault with their right
knees bared. And we may also observe, in such pictures, the
extravagance to which they carried the fashion of ornamenting
their dress with knots of ribband. This custom of the Ger-
mans is alluded to in the Mirrour for MagistrateSj p. 121.

Their pleited garmeats therewith well accord^
All jagde and irounst^ with divers colours deckt..

His ready lances Thirlestane brave

Arrayed beneath a banner bright. — St. VIII. p. 99v
Sir John Scott of Thirlestaine flourished in the reign of
James V. and possessed the estates of Thirlestaine, Games-
cleugh, &c. lying upon the river of Ettricke, and extending to
St Mary's Loch, at the head of Yarrow. It appears that when
James had assembled his nobility, and their feudal followers,
at Fala, with the purpose of invading England, and was, as is
well known^ disappointed by the obstinate refusal of his peers,
this baron alone declared himself ready to follow the king
wherever he should lead. In memory of his fidelity, James
granted to his family a charter of arms, entitling them to bear
a border of fleurs-de-luce similar to the tressure in the royal
arms, with a bundle of spears for the crest ; motto, Ready ^ aye
Ready. The charter itself is printed by Nisbet ; but his work

.276

being scarce, I insert the following accurate transcript from
the original, in the possession of the Right Honourable Lord
Napier, the representative of John of Thirlestaine.

" Jam£s Rex.

" We James, be the grace of God king of Scottis, consider-
and the ffaith and guid servis of of of* right traist freind John
Scott of Thirlestane, quha cummand to our hoste at Sautra
Edge, with three score and ten launcieres on horsback of his
freinds and followers, and beand willing to gang with ws into

•

England, when all our nobles and others refuised, he was
readdy to stake all at our bidding ; ffor the quhilk cause, it is
our will, and we doe straitlie command and charg our lion he^
rauld, and his deputis for the time beand, to give and to
graunt to the said John Scott, ane Border of ffleure de lises
about his coatte of armes, sik as is on our royal banner, and
alsua ane bundell of launces above his helmet, with ihir words,
Readdy, ay Readdy, that he and all his aftercummers may
bruik the saniine, as a pledge and taiken of our guid will. and
kyndnes for his treue worthines ; and thir our letters seen, ye
nae wayes failzie to doe. Given at Ffalla Muire, under our
hand and privy cashet, the xxvii day of Jully, mc and xxxxii
zeires. By the King's graces speciall ordinance.

" Jo. Arskine."'
On the back of the charter is written,
" Edin. 14. January, 1713. Registred, conform to the act of

* Sic. in orig.

277

parliament made anent probative writs, per M'Kaile, pror. and
produced by Alexander Borthwick, servant to Sir William Scott
of Thirlestane. M. L. J/'

An aged knight^ to danger steeled^
With many a moss-trooper, came on ;

And azure in a golden fields *

The stars and crescent graced his shield.

Without the bend of Murdieston. — St. IX. p. 100.
The family of Harden are descended from a younger son of
the laird of Buccleuch, who flourished before the estate of
Murdieston was acquired by the marriage of one of those
chieftains with the heiress in 1296. Hence they bear the cog-
nizance of the Scotts upon the field ; whereas those of the
Buccleuch are disposed upon a bend dexter, assumed in con-
sequence of that marriage. See Gladstaine of Whitelaws
MSS. and Scott of Stokoes Pedigree, Newcastle, 1783.

Walter Scott of Harden, who flourished during the reign of
Queen Mary, was a renowned Border free-booter, concerning
whom tradition has preserved a variety of anecdotes, some of
which have been published in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish
Border, and others in Le yd en's Scenes of Infancy. The bugle
horn, said to have been used by this formidable leader, is pre-
served by his descendant, the present Mr Scott of Harden.
His castle was situated upon the very brink of a dark and pre-
cipitous dell, through which a scanty rivulet steals to meet
the Borthwick. In the recess of this glen he is said to have
kept his spoil, which served for the daily maintenance of his

278

retainers, until the production of a pair of clean spurs, in a co-
vered dish, announced to the hungry band, that they must ride
for a supply of provisions. He was married to Mary Scott,
daughter of Philip Scott of Dryhope, and called in song the
Flower of Yarrow. He possessed a very extensive estate,
which was divided among his five sons. There are numerous
descendants of this old marauding Baron. The following beau-
tiful passage of Le yd en's Scenes of Infancy is founded on a
tradition respecting an infant captive, whom Walter of Harden
carried off in a predatory incursion, and who is said to have be-
come the author of some of our most beautiful pastoral songs.

Where Bortba hoarse^ that loads the meads with sand^

Rolls her red tide to Teviot's western strand^

Through slaty hills^ whose sides are shagged with thom^

Where springs^ in scattered tufts, the dark green com.

Towers wood-girt Harden, far above the vale.

And clouds of ravens o'er the turrets sail ;

A hardy race, who never shrunk from war.

The Scott, to rival realms a mighty bar.

Here fixed his mountain-home ; — a wide domain.

And rich the soil, had purple heath been grain ;

But, what the niggard ground of wealth denied.

From fields more blessed his fearless arm supplied.

The waning harvest-moon shone cold and bright ;
The warder's horn was heard at dead of night ;
And, as the massy portals wide were flung.
With stamping hoofs the rocky pavement rung.
What fair, half-veiled, leans from her latticed hall.
Where red the wavering gleams of torch-light fall ?
Tis Yarrow's fairest Flower, who, through the gloom^
Iiooks, wistful, for her lover's dancing plume.

279

Amid the piles of spoils that strewed the ground.
Her ear, all anxious, caught a wailing sound ;
With trembling haste the youthful matron flew.
And from the hurried heaps an infant drew :
Scared at the light, his little hands he flung
Around her neck, and to her bosom clung ;
While beauteous Mary soothed, in accents mild.
His fluttering soul, and clasped her foster child.
Of milder mood the gentle captive grew.
Nor loved the scenes that scared his infant view.
In vales remote, from camps and castles far.
He shunned the fearful shuddering joy of war ;
Content the loves of simple swains to sing.
Or wake to fame the harp's heroic string.

His are the strains, whose wandering echoes thrill
The shepherd, lingering on the twilight hill.
When evening brings the merry folding-hours.
And sun-eyed daisies close their winking flowers.
He lived, o'er Yarrow's Flower to shed the tear.
To strew the holly's leaves o'er Harden's bier ;
But none was found above the minstrel's tomb.
Emblem of peace, to bid the daisy bloom :
He, nameless as the race from which he sprung.
Saved other names, and left his own unsung.

The camp their home^ their law the sword^

They knew no country^ ozsmed no hrd. — Si. XV. p. 106.

The mercenary adventurers, whom, in 1380, the Earl of

Cambridge carried to the assistance of the king of Portugal

against the Spaniards, mutinied for want of regular pay. At

an assembly of their leaders, Sir John Sol tier, a natural son of

280

Edward the Black Prince, thus addressed them : " I counsayle,
let us be alle of one alliaunce, and of one accorde, and let us
among ourselves reyse up the baner of St George, and let us
be frendes to God, and enemyes to alle the worlde ; for with-
out we make ourselfe to be feared, we gette nothynge/' " By
my fayth,'' quod Sir William Helmon, " ye saye ryght well,
and so lette us do/' They alle agreed with one voyce, and so
regarded among them who shulde be their capitayne. Then
they advysed in the case how they coude nat have a better
capitayne than Sir John Soltier. For they sulde than have
good leyser to do yvell, and they thought he was more mete-
Iyer therto than any other. Than they reysed up the penon of
St George, and cried, " A Soltier ! a Soltier ! the valyaunt bas-
tarde ! frendes to God, and enemies to alle the worlde !" —
Froyssart, vol. i. ch. 393.

A gauntlet on a spear — St. XVIII. p. 109.
A glove upon a lance was the emblem of faith among the
ancient Borderers, who were wont, when any one broke his
word, to expose this emblem, and proclaim him a faithless
villain at the first Border meeting. This ceremony was much
dreaded. See Lesley.

We claim from thee William of Deloraine^

That he may suffer march-treason pain. — St. XXI. p. 112.
Several species of offences, peculiar to the Border, constitu-
ted what was called march-treason. Among others, was the
crime of riding, or causing to ride, against the opposite coun-

281

try during the time of truce. Thus, in an indenture made at
the water of Eske, beside Salom, the 25th day of March^ 1384)
betwixt noble Lords and mighty, Sirs Henry Percy, Earl of
Northumberland, and Archibald of Douglas, Lord of Galo-
way, a truce is agreed upon until the 1st day of July ; and it
is expressly accorded, " Gif ony stellis authir on the ta part,
or on the tothyr, that he shall be henget or heofdit ; and gif
ony cumpany stellis any gudes wthin the trieux beforesayd,
ane of that company sail be henget or heofdit, and the rema-
nent sail restore the gudys stollen in the double/' — History of
Westmoreland and Cumberland^ In trod. p. xxxix.

William of Deloraine

Will cleanse him by oath of march-treason stain.

St. XXIII. p. 113.
In dubious cases, the innocence of Border-criminals was oc-
casionally referred to their own oath. The form of excusing
bills or indictments, by Border-oath, ran thus : " You shall
swear by heaven above you, hell beneath you, by your part of
Paradise, by all that God made in six days and seven nights,
and by God himself, you are whart out sackless of art, part,
way, witting, ridd, kenning, having, or recetting of any of the
goods and cattells named in this bill. So help you God." —
History of Cumberland^ Introd. p. xxv.

Knighthood he took of Douglas' sword. — ^St. XXIII. p. 114.
The dignity of knighthood, according to the original institu-
tion, had this peculiarity, that it did not flow from the mo-

2 N

282

narch, but could be conferred by one who himself possessed
it, upon any squire who, after due probation, was found to
nierit the honour of chivalry. Latterly, this power was con-
fined to generals, who were wont to create knights banne-
rets after or before an engagement. Even so late as the
reign of Queen Elizabeth, Essex highly offended his jealous
sovereign by the indiscriminate exertion of this privilege. A-
mongst others, he knighted the witty Sir John Harrington,
whose favour at court was by no means enhanced by his new
honours. See the NugcB Antiquce^ edited by Mr Park, But
probably the latest instance of knighthood, conferred by a
subject, was in the case of Thomas Ker, knighted by the Earl
of Huntley, after the defeat of the Earl of Argyle in the
battle of Belrinnes. The fact is attested, both by a poetical
and prose account of the engagement, contained in a MS. in
the Advocates' Library, and lately edited by Mr Dalyell, in
Godly Sangs and BalktSj Edin. 1802.

When English blood swelled Ancramford. — St. XXHI. p. 114.

The battle of Ancram Moor, or Peniel-heuch, was fought
A. D. 1545. The English, commanded by Sir Ralph Evers
and Sir Brian Latoun, were totally routed, and both their lead-
ers slain in the action. The Scottish army was commanded by
Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, assisted by the laird of
Buccleuch and Norman Lesly.

The blanche Hon.— St. XX VH. p. 11?.
This was the cognisance of the noble house of Howard in

283

all its branches. The crest, or bearing, of a warrior was often,
used as a nomme de guerre. Thus Richard III. acquired his
well-known epithet, the Boar of York. In the violent satire on
Cardinal Wolsey, commonly, but erroneously, imputed to Dr
Bull, the Duke of Buckingham is called the Beautiful Swan^
and the Duke of Norfolk, or Earl of Surrey, the JVhite Lion.
As the book is extremely rare, and the whole passage relates
to the emblematical interpretation of heraldry, it shall be here
given at length*

The descfipcion of the arme$.
Of the proude Cardinall this is the shelde>
Borne up betwene two angels of Sathan ;
The sixe blouddy axes in a bare felde,
Sheweth the cruelte of the red man^
Which hath devoured the beautiful! swan^
Mortall enmy unto the whyte lion^
Carter of Yorcke, the vyle butcher's sonne.

Hie sixe buUes heddes in a felde blacke^
Betokeneth hys stordy furiousnes^
Wherfore the godly lyght to put abacke,
* Jle bryngeth in his dyvlisshe darcnes ;
The bandog in the middes doth expresse
The mastif curre bred in Ypswitch towne^
Gnawynge with his teth a kinges crowne*

The cloubbe signifieth playne hys tiranny^
Covered over with a Cardinal's hatt^
Wherin shal be fulfilled the prophecy,
Aryse up Jacke^ and put on thy salatt.
For the tyme is come of bagge and walatt.
The temporall chevalry thus throwen doune,
Wherfor prest take hede, and beware thy crowne.

284

There' are two copies of this very scarce satire in the library
of the late Duke of Roxburghe.

Let Musgrave meet stout Delaraine

In single Jight. St. XXVII. p. 118.

It may easily be supposed, that trial by single combat, so
peculiar to the feudal system, was common on the Borders.
The following indenture will shew at how late a period it was
there resorted to, as a proof of guilt or innocence.

" It is agreed between Thomas Musgrave and Lancelot
Carleton, for the true trial of such controversies as are betwixt
them, to have it openly tried, by way of combat, before God
and the face of the world, to try it in Canonby-holme, before
England and Scotland, upon Thursday in Easter-week, being
the eight day of April next ensuing, A. D. 1602, betwixt nine
of the clock, and one of the same day, to fight on foot, to be
armed with jack, steel cap, plaite sleeves, plaite breeches,
plaite sockes, two baslaerd swords, the blades to be one yard
and half a quarter of length, two Scotch daggers or dorks at
their girdles, and either of them to provide armour and wea-
pons for themselves, according to this indenture. Two gentle-
men to be appointed on the field to view both the parties, to
see that they both be equal in arms and weapons, according
to this indenture ; and being so viewed by the gentlemen, the
gentlemen to ride to the rest of the company, and to leave
them but two boys viewed by the gentlemen, to be under 16
years of age, to hold their horses. In testimony of this our
agreement, we have both set our hands to this indenture, of in-

285

tent all matters shall be made so plain^ as there shall be no
question to stick upon that day. Which indenture, as a wit«-
ness, shall be delivered to two gentlemen. And for that it is
convenient the world should be privy to every particular of
the grounds of the quarrel, we have agreed to set it down in
this indenture betwixt us, that knowing the quarrel, their eyes
may be witness of the trial.

The Grounds of the Quarrel.

" 1. Lancelot Carleton did charge Thomas Musgrave before
the lords of her majesty's privy council, that Lancelot Carleton
was told by a gentleman, one of her majesty's sworn servants,
that Thomas Musgrave had offered to deliver her majesty's
castle of Bewcastle to the king of Scots; and to witness the
same, Lancelot Carleton had a letter under the gentleman's
own hand for his discharge.

" 2. He chargeth him, that, whereas her majesty doth year-
ly bestow a great fee upon him, as captain of Bewcastle, to
aid and defend her majesty's subjects therein ; Thomas Mus*
grave hath neglected his duty, for that her majesty's castle of
Bewcastle was by him made a den of thieves, and an harbour
and receipt for murderers, felons, and all sorts of misdemea-
nors. The precedent was Quinten Whitehead and Runion
Blackbume.

" 3. He chargeth him, that his office of Bewcastle is open
for the Scotch to ride in and through, and small resistance
made by him to the contrary.

286

" Thomas Musgrave doth deny all this charge ; and saith^
that he will prove that Lancelot Carleton doth falsely bely
him, and will prove the same by way of combat, according to
this indenture. Lancelot Carleton hath entertained the chal-
lenge ; and so, by God's permission, will prove it true as be-
fore, and hath set his hand to the same.

(Signed) Thomas Musgrave.

Lancelot Carleton."

He, the jovial harper. — St. XXXI. p. 121.
The person, here alluded to, is one of our ancient Border
minstrels, called Rattling Roaring Willie. This soubriquet was
probably derived from his bullying disposition ; being, it would
seem, such a roaring boy as is frequently mentioned in old
plays. While drinking at Newmill, upon Teviot, about five
miles above Hawick, Willie chanced to quarrel with one of
his own profession, who was usually distinguished by the
odd name of Sw'eet Milk, from a place on Rule-water so
called. They retired to a meadow on the opposite side of
the Teviot, to decide the contest with their swords, and
Sweet Milk was killed on the spot. A thorn-tree marks the
scene of the murder, which is still called Sweet Milk Thorn.
Willie was taken and executed at Jedburgh, bequeathing his
name to the beautiful Scottish air, called " Rattling Roaring
Willie.'* Ramsay, who set no value on traditionary lore, pub-
lished a few verses of this song in the Tea Table Miscellany^
carefully suppressing all which had any connection with the
history of the author, and origin of the piece. In this case,

287

however, honest Allan is in some degree justified, by the ex-
treme worthlessness of the poetry. A verse or two may be ta-
ken as illustrative of the history of Roaring Willie, alluded to
in the text.

Now Willie's gane to Jeddart,

And he is for the rude-day*;
But Stob» and young Falnashf^

They foUowed him a' the way ;
They followed him a* the way.

They sought him up and down.
In the links of Ousenam water

They fand him sleeping sound.

Stobs lighted .afrhi» horse>

And neiner a word he spak,
TiU he tie'd WUUe's hands

Fu' fast behind his back ;
Fu' fast behind his back.

And down beneath his knee.
And drink will be dear to Willie,

When sweet milk j: gars him die^

Ah wae light on ye, Stobs !

An ill death mot ye die !
Ye're the first and foremost maa

That e'er laid hands on me ;
That e'er laid hands on me.

And took my mare me frae ;
Wae to ye. Sir Gilbert Elliot,

Ye are my mortal fae !

• The day of the Rood-fair at Jedburgh.

t Sir Gilbert ElJiot of Stobs, and Scott of Falnash*

t A wretched pan on his antagonist's nama

288

The lasses of Ousenam water

Are rugging and riving their hair.
And a' for the sake of Willie,

His beauty was sae fair ;
His beauty was sae fair.

And comely for to see.
And drink will be dear to Willie,

When sweet milk gars him die.

Black Lord Archibalds battle lawsy

In the old Douglas' day. — St. XXXI. p. 121.

The title to the most ancient collection of Border regula-
tions rans thus :

" Be it remembered, that on the 18th day of December,
1468, Earl William Douglas assembled the whole lords, free-
holders, and eldest Borderers, that best knowledge had, at
the college of Linclouden ; and there he caused those lords
and Borderers bodily to be sworn, the Holy Gospel touched,
that they justly and truly, after their cunning, should decrete,
decern, deliver, and put in order and writing, the statutes, or-
dinances, and uses of marche, that were ordained in Black Ar-
chibald of Douglass days, and Archijbald his son's days, in
time of warfare ; and they came again to him advisedly with
these statutes and ordinances, which were in time of warfare
before. The said Earl William^ seeing the statutes in writing
decreed and delivered by the said lords and Borderers, thought
them right speedful and profitable to the Borderers ; the which
statutes, ordinances, and points of warfare, he took, and the
whole lords and Borderers he caused bodily to be sworn, that

289

they should maintain and supply him, at their goodly power,
to do the law upon those that should break the statutes un-
derwritten. Also the said Earl William^ and lords and eldest
Borderers, made certain points to be treason in time of war-
fare to be used, which were no treason before his time, but to
be treason in his time, and in all time coming/'

2 o

NOTES

CANTO V,

The Bloody Heart blazed in the vaUj
Afifiouficing Douglas^ dreaded name I — St. IV. p. 130.
The chief of this potent race of heroes, about the date of
the poem, was Archibald Douglas, seventh Earl of Angus, a
man of great courage and activity. The bloody heart was the
well-known cognizance of the house of Douglas, assumed from
the time of Good Lord James, to whose care Robert •Bruce
committed his heart, to be carried to the Holy Land.

Beneath the crest of old Dunbar^

And Hepburn's mingled banners^ come^
Down the steep mountain glittering far-y

And shouting stilly " a Home! a HomeT' — St. IV. p. ISO.
The Earls of Home, as descendants of the Dirnbars, ancient
Earls of March, carried a lion rampant, argent ; but^ as a diffe*

292

rence, changed the colour of the shield from gules to vert, in
allusion to Greenlaw, their ancient possession. The slogan,
or war-cry of this powerful family, was, " a Home ! a Home !"
It was anciently placed in an escroU above the crest. The
helmet is armed with a lion's head erased gules, with a cap of
state gules, turned up ermine.

The Hepburns, a powerful family in East Lothian, are usu-
ally in close alliance with the Homes. The chief of this clan
was Hepburn, Lord of Hailes ; a family which terminated in
the too famous Earl of Bothwell.

Pursued the fooUhall play . — St. VI. p. 133.
The foot-ball was anciently a very favourite sport all through
Scotland, but especially upon the Borders. Sir John Car-
michael of Carmichael, warden of the middle marches, was
killed in 1600 by a band of the Armstrongs, returning from a
foot-ball match. Sir Robert Carey, in his Memoirs, mentions
a great meeting appointed by the Scottish riders, to be held, at
Kelso, for the purpose of playing at foot-ball, but which ter-
minated in an incursion upon England. At present the foot*
ball is often' played by the inhabitants of adjacent parishes, or
of the opposite banks of a stream. The victory is contested
with the utmost fury, and very serious accidents have some-
times taken place in the struggle.

293

'Tmxt truce and war sitch sudden change
Was nor unfrequent^ nor held strange^
In the old Border day. — St. VII- p. 134.
Notwithstanding the constant wars upon the Borders, and
the occasional cruelties which marked the mutual inroads, the
inhabitants on either side do not appear to have regarded each
other with that violent and personal animosity which might
have been expected. On the contrary, like the outposts of
hostile armies, they often carried on something resembling
friendly intercourse, even in the middle of hostilities ; and it is
evident, from various ordinances against trade and intermar-
riages between English and Scottish Borderers, that the go-
vernments of both countries were jealous of their cherishing
too intimate a connection. Froissart says of both nations, that
" Englyshemen on the one party, and Scottes on the other
party, are good men of warre ; for when they meet, there is a
harde fight without sparynge. There is no hoo (truce) between
them as longe as spears, swords, axes, or daggers, will endure,
but lay on eche upon other ; and whan they be well beaten,
and that the one partye hath obtayned the victory, they than

gloryfye so in theyre dedes of armes, and are so joyfull, that
such as be taken they shall be ransomed, or that they go out
of the felde ; so that shortly eche of them is so content with
other, that at their departynge, curtyslye they will say, God
thank you." Bekner's Froyssart^ vol. ii. p. 153. The Border
meetings of truce, which, although places of merchandize and
merriment, often witnessed the most bloody scenes, may serve
to illustrate the description in the text. They are vividly

294

pourtrajed in the old ballad of the Reidsquair. Both parties
came armed to a meeting of the wardens, yet they intermixed
fearlessly and peaceably with each other in mutual sports and
familiar intercourse^ until a casual fray arose.

Then was diere nought but bow and spear^
And every man pulled out a brand.

In the 29th stanza of this canto, there is an attempt to ex*
press some of the mixed feelings, with which the Borderers on
each side were led to regard their neighbours.

And frequent on the darkening plainy
Laud hollo^ whoops and whistle ran ;

As bands^ their stragglers to regain^

Give the shrill watch-word of their clan. — St. VIII. p. 134.

Patten remarks, with bitter censure, the disorderly conduct
of the" English Borderers, who attended the Protector Somer-
set on his expedition against Scotland. " As we wear then a
setling, and the tents a setting up, among all things els com-
mendable in oure hole jomey, one thing semed to me an in-
tollerable disorder and abuse ; that whearas allweys, both in
all tounes of war, and in all campes of armies, quietnes and
stilnes, without nois, is principally in the night, after the watch
is set, observed (I nede not reason why), our northern prikkers,
the Borderers, notwithandyng, with great enormitie (as thought
me), and not unlike (to be playn) unto a masteries hounde howl-
yng in a hie wey when he hath lost him he waited upon, sum
hoopynge, sum whistlyng, and most with crying, A Berwyke,

29.5

a Berwyke f A Fenwyke, a Fenwyke ! A Bulmer, a Bulmer !
or so otherwise as theyr captains names wear, never lin'de
these troublous and dangerous noyses all the nighte lopge.
They said they did to finde their captain and fellows ; but if
the souldiours of our other countreys and sheres had used the
same manner, in that case we shoold have oft tymes had the
state of our camp more like the outrage of a dissolute hunt-
yng, than the quiet of a well ordred armye. It is a feat of
war, in mine opinion, that might right well be left I could
reherse causes (but yf I take it, they ar better unspoken than
uttred, unless the faut wear sure to be amended) that might
shew thei move alweis more peral to our armie, but in their
one night's so doynge, than thei shew good service (as sum sey)
in a hoole vyage/' — Apud Dalz ell's Fragments^ p. 75.

Cfieer the dark blood-hound on his way^

And with the hugh rouse the fray. — St XXIX. p. 154.
The pursuit of Border marauders was followed by the inju-
red party and his friends with blood-hounds and bugle-horn,
and was called the hot-trod. He was entitled, if his dog could
trace the scent, to follow the invaders into the opposite king-
dom ; a privilege which often occasioned blood-shed. In ad-
dition to what has been said of the blood-hound, I may add,
that the breed was kept up by the Buccleuch family on their
border estates till within the 18th century. A person was alive
in the memory of man, who remembered a blood-hound being
kept at Eldinhope, in Ettricke Forest, for whose maintenance
he tenant bad an allowance of meal. At that time the sheep

296

were always watched at night. Upon one occasion, when the
duty had fallen on the narrator, then a lad, he became ex-
hausted with fatigue, and fell asleep upon a bank near sun-
rising. Suddenly he was awakened by the tread of horses, and
saw five men well mounted and armed, ride briskly over the
edge of the hill. They stopped and looked at the flock; -but
the day was too far broken to admit the chance of their car-
rying any of them off. One of them, in spite, leaped from
his horse, and coming to the shepherd, seized him by the belt
he wore round his waist ; and setting his foot upon his body,
pulled it till it broke, and carried it away with him. They
rode off at the gallop ; and the shepherd giving the alarm, the
blood-hound was turned loose, and the people in the neigh-
bourhood alarmed. The marauders, however, escaped, - not-
withstanding a sharp pursuit. This circumstance serves to
shew, how very long the license of the Borderers continued in
some degree to manifest itself.

NOTES

CANTO VI.

She wrought not by forbidden spell. — St. V. p. 165.

Popular belief, though contrary to the doctrines of the
church, made a favourable distinction betwixt magicians, and
necromancers or wizards ; the fonner were supposed to com-
mand the evil spirits, and the latter to serve, or at least to be
in league and compact with, those enemies of mankind. The
arts of subjecting the daemons were manifold ; sometimes the
fiends were actually swindled by the magicians, as in the case
of the bargain betwixt one of their number and the poet Vir-
gil. The classic reader will doubtless be curious to peruse
this anecdote.

" Virgilius Was at scole at Tolenton, where he stodyed dyli-
gently, for he was of great understandynge. Upon a tyme,

2 p

298

the scolers had lycense to go to play and sporte them in the
fyldes, after the usaunce of the holde tyme. And there was
also Virgilius therbye, also walkynge amonge the hylles alle
about. It fortuned he spyed a great hole in the syde of a
great hyll, wherein he went so depe, that he culde not see no
more lyght; and then he went a lytell farther therin, and
than he saw some lyght agayne, and than he went fourth
streyghte, and within a lytyll wyle after he harde a voyce
that called '* Virgilius ! Virgilius !" and loked aboute, and he
colde nat see no body. Than sayd he (i. e. the voice) ^ " Vir-
gilius, see ye not the lyttyil bourde lyinge bysyde you there
markd with that word Y' Than answerd Virgilius, " I see that
borde well anough." The voyce sayd, " Doo awaye that borde,
and lette me out there atte/' Than answered Virgilius to the
voyce that was under the lytell borde, and sayd, " Who art
thou that calles me so r Than answered the Devyll, " I am a
devyll c(M)jured out of the body of a certeyne man, and ba-
nysshed here tyll the day of judgemend, without that I be de-
lyvered by the handes of men. Thus, Virgilius, I pray the, de-
ly vere me out of this payn, and I shall shewe unto the many
bokes of nygromancy, and how thou shalt come by it lyghtly
and know the practise therein, that no man in the scyence of
negromancye shall passe the. And moreover, I shall shewe
and enforme the so, that thou shalt have alle thy desyre,
wherby mythinke it is a great gyfte for so lytyll a doynge.
For ye may also thus all your power frendys helpe, and make

ryche your ennemyes.'' ^Thorough that great promyse was

Virgilius tempted ; he badde the fynd show the bokes to him,

299

that he might have and occupy them at his wyll, and so the
fynde shewed hym. And than Virgilius pulled open a bourde,
and there was a lytell hole, and therat wrang the devyll out
lyke a yeel, and cam and stode byfore Virgilius lyke a bygge
man ; wherof Virgilius was astonied and marveyled greatly
therof, that so great a man myght come out at so lytell a hole.
Than sayd Virgilius, " Shulde ye well passe into the hole that
ye cam out of ?'* " Yea, I shall well,'' sayd the devyll. " Iholde
the best plegge that I have that ye shall not do it'' " Well,"
sayd the devyll, " therto I consent." And than the devyll
wrange himselfe into the lytell hole ageyne ; and as he was
therein, Virgilius kyverd the hole ageyn with the bourde close,
and so was the devyll begyled, and myght nat there come out
agen, but abydeth -shytte sty 11 therin. Than called the devyll
dredefully to Virgilius, and sayd, " What have ye done, Vir-
gilius ?" Virgilius answerd, " Abyde there styll to your day
apoy nted ;" and fro thens forth abydeth be there. And so
Virgilius became very connynge in the practyse of the blacke
scyence."

This story may remind the reader of the Arabian tale of the
Fisherman and the imprisoned Genie ; and it is more than pro-
bable that many of the marvels narrated in the life of Virgil
are of oriental extraction. Among such I am disposed to
reckon the following whimsical account of the foundation of
Naples, containing a curious theory concerning the origin of
the earthquakes with which it is afflicted. Virgil, who was a
person of gallantry, had, it seems, carried oflf the daughter of
a certain Soldan, and was anxious to secure his prize.

300

" Than he thought in his mynde how he myghte mareje
hjr, and thought in his mynde to founde in the middes of the
see a fayer towne, with great landes belongynge to it ; and so
he dyd by his cunnynge, and called it Napells. And the fan-
dacyon of it was of egges, and in that towne of Napells he
made a tower with iiii comers, and in the toppe he set a nap-
pell upon an yron yarde, and no man culde pull awaye that
apell without he brake it ; and thoroughe that yren set he a
bolte, and in that bolte set he a egge. And he henge the
apell by the stauke apon a cheyne, and so hangeth it styll.
And when the egge styrreth, so shulde the towne of Napells
quake ; and whan the egge brake, than shulde 'the towne
sinke. Whan he had made an ende, he lette call it Napels/'

A merlin^ sat upon her wrist. — St. V. p. 165.
A merlin, or sparrow-hawk, was usually carried by ladies of
rank, as a falcon was, in time of peace, the constant attendant
of a knight or baron. See Latham on Falamry. — Godscroft
relates, that when Mary of Lorraine was regent, she pressed
the Earl of Angus to admit a royal garrison into his castle of
Tantallon. To this he returned no direct answer ; but, as if
apostrophising a goss-hawk which sat on his wrist, and which
he was feeding during the Queen's speech, he exclaimed,
" The devil's in this greedy glade, she will never be full."
'Hume's History of the House of Douglas^ 1743, vol. ii. p. 131.
Barclay complains of the common and indecent practice of
bringing hawks and hounds into churches.

301

Afid princely peacoclcs gilded train. — St. VI. p. 166.
The peacock, it is well known, was considered, during the
times of chivalry, not merely as an exquisite delicacy, but as
a dish of peculiar solemnity. After being roasted, it was again
decorated with its plumage, and a spunge, dipt in lighted spi-
rits of wine, was placed in its bill. When it was introduced on
days of grand festival, it was the signal for the adventurous
knights to take upon them vows to do some deed of chivalry
** before the peacock and the ladies.''

And o'er the boar-head^ garnished brave. — St. VI. p. 166.
The boars head was also a usual dish of feudal splendour.
In Scotland it was sometimes surrounded wilh little banners,
displaying the colours and achievements of the baron, at
whose board it was served. tiNKEaxoN's History^ Vol. I.
p. 432.

And cygnet from St Mary^s wave. — St. VI. p. l66.
There are often flights of wild swans upon St Mary's Lake,
at the head of the river Yarrow.

Smote^ with his gauntlet^ stout Hunthill. — St. VII. p. l68.
The Rutherfords of Hunthill were an ancient race of Border
lairds, whose names occur in history, sometimes as defending
the frontier against the English, sometimes as disturbing the
peace of the country. Dickon Draw-the-sword was son to
the ancient warrior, called in tradition the Cock of Hunt*
hill.

302

But bit his glovCj and shook his head. — St. VII. p. 163.
To bite the thumb, or the glove, seems not to have been
considered, upon the Border, as a gesture of contempt, though
so used by Shakespeare, but as a pledge of mortal revenge.
It is yet remembered, that a young gentleman of Teviotdale,
on the morning after a hard drinking bout, observed, that he
had bitten his glove. He instantly demanded of his compa-
nion, with whom he had quarrelled ? and learning that he had
had words with one of the parly, insisted on instant satisfac-
tion, asserting, that though he remembered nothing of the dis-
pute, yet he never would have bit his glove unless he had re-
ceived some unpardonable insult. He fell in the duel, which
was fought near Selkirk, in 1721.

Arthur Fire-the-braes. — St. VIII. p. 169.

The person bearing this redoubtable nomme de guerre was an
Elliot, and resided at Thorleshope, in Liddesdale. He occurs
in the list of Border riders, in 1597.

Since old Buckleuch the name did gain^

JVhen in the cleuch the buck was tden. — St. VIII. p. 170.
A tradition, preserved by Scott of Satchells, who published,
in 1688, A true History oj the Right Honourable name of Scott j
gives the following romantic origin of that name. Two breth-
ren, natives of Galloway, having been banished from that coun-
try for a riot, or insurrection, came to Rankelbum, in Ettricke
Forest, where the keeper, whose name was Brydone, received
them joyfully, on account of their skill in winding the horn, and

SOS

in the other mysteries of the chace* Kenneth Mac-Alpin, then
king of Scotland, came soon after to hunt in the royal forest,
and pursued a buck from Ettricke-heuch to the glen now called
Buckleuch, about two miles above the junction of Rankelburn
with the river Ettricke. Here the stag stood at bay ; and the
king and his attendants, who followed on horseback, were
thrown out by the steepness of .the hill and the morass. John,
one of the brethren from Galloway, had followed the chace on
foot ; and now coming in, seized the buck by the horns, and,
being a man of great strength and activity, threw him on his
back, and run with this burden about a mile up the steep hill
to a place called Cracra-Cross, where Kenneth had halted, and
laid the buck at the sovereign s feet *•

The deer being cure6'd in that place^

At his Majesty's demand^
Then John of Galloway ran apace^

And fetched water to his hand.
The King did wash into a dish.

And Galloway John he wot ;
He said, '' thy name now after this

Shall ever be called John Scot.

♦ Froissart relates, that a knight of the household of the Compte de Foix
exhibited a similar feat of strength. The hall-fire had waxed low, and wood
was wanted to mend it. This knight went down to the court-yard, where
stood an ass laden with faggots, seized on the animal and his burden, and, car-
rying him up to the hall on his shoulders, tumbled him into the chimney with
his heels uppermost ; a humane pleasantry, much applauded by the Count and
all the spectators.

.304

The forest, and the. deer therein.

We commit to thy hand ;
For thou shalt sure the ranger be.

If thou obey command : '

And for the Buck thou stoutly brought

To us up that steep heuch.

Thy designation ever shall

Be John Scot in Buckscleugh."
# * * # *

In Scotland no Buckcleuch was then.
Before the buck in the cleugh was slain ;
Nights-men* at first they did appear.
Because moon and stars to their arm they bear.
Their crest, supporters, and hunting horn,
Shdws their beginning from hunting came ;
Their name and stile, the book doth say,
John gained them both into one day.

Watt's Bellanden.

The Buccleuch arms have been altered, and now allude less
pointedly to this hunting, whether real or fabulous. The fa-
mily now bear Or upon a bend azure, a mullet betwixt two
crescents of the field ; in addition to which they formerly bore

* '^ Minions of the moon," as Falstaff would have said. The vocation pur-
sued by our ancient Borderers may be justified on the authority of the most
polished of the ancient nations. *^ For the Grecians in old time, and such bar-
barians as in the continent, lived neere unto the sea, or else inhabited the
islands, after once they began to crosse over one to another in ships, became
theeves, and went abroad under the conduct of their more puissant men,
both to enrich themselves and to fetch in maintenance for the weak: and
falling upon towns unfortified or scatteringly inhabited, rifled them, and made
this the best meanes of their living ; being a matter at that time no where in

305

in the field a hunting horn. The supporters, now two ladies,
were formerly a hound and buck, or, according to the old terms,
a hart of leash and a hart of greece. The family of Scott of
Howpasley and Thirlestaine long retained the bugle-horn : they
also carried a bent bow and arrow in the sinister cantle, per-
haps as a difference. It is said the old motto was Be^^ riding
hy moonlight^ in allusion to the crescents on the shield, and
perhaps to the habits of those who bore it. The motto now
given is AmOj applying to the female supporters^

Good Fergus GrcemCy

The Harper of that ancient name. — St. X. p. 171-
** John Grahme, second son of Malice^ Earl of Monteithy
commonly sumamed John tenth the Bright Swordj upon some
displeasure risen against him at court, retired with many of his
clan and kindred into the English Borders in the reign of king
Henry the Fourth, where they seated themselves ; and many

disgrace^ but rather carrying witk it something of glory. This it manifest by
some that dwell upon the continent^ amongst whom^ so it be performed nobly^
it is still esteemed as an ornament. The same also is prooved by some of the
ancient poets^ who introduce men questioning of such as sail by^ on all coasts
alike^ whether they bee theeves or not ; as a thing neyther scorned by such as
were asked^ nor upbraided by those that were desirous to know. They also
robbed one another within the main land : and much of Greece useth that old
custome^ as the Locrians, the Aeamanians, and those of the continent in that
quarter unto this day. Moreover^ the fashion of wearing iron remaineth yet
with the people of that continent^ from their old trade of theeving.'' Hobbes '
Thucydides, p. 4. Lond. I629.

2 q

306

of their posterity have continued there ever since. Mr Sand*
ford, speaking of them, says (which indeed was applicable to
most of the Borderers on both sides), ** They were all stark
moss-troopers, and arrant thieves : Both to England and Scot-
land outlawed ; yet sometimes connived at, because they gave
intelligence forth of Scotland, and would rise 400 horse at
any time upon a raid of the English into Scotland. A saying
is recorded of a mother to her son (which is now become pro-
verbial) Ride^ 'Rowley J hough's i ' the pot : that is, the last piece
of beef was in the pot, and therefore it was high time for him to
go and fetch more." Introduction to History of Cumberland.

The residence of the Graemes being chiefly in the Debate-
able Land, so called because it was claimed by both king-
doms, their depredations extended both to England and Scot-
land, with impunity; for as both wardens accounted them
the proper subjects of their own prince, neither inclined to
demand reparation for their excesses from the opposite offi-
cer, which would have been an acknowledgment of his juris-
diction over them. See a long correspondence on this subject
betwixt Lord Dacre and the English Privy Council, in Intro-
duction to History of Cumberland. The Debateable Land was
finally divided betwixt England and Scotland by commission-
ers appointed by both nations.

The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall. — St. XI. p. 172.
This burden is adopted, with some alteration, from an old
Scottish song, beginning thus :

307

She leaned her hack against a thorn^
The sun shines fair on Carlisle wa' ;

And there she has her young babe bom.
And the lyon sail be lord of a'.

Who has not heard of Surrey's fame. — St. XIII. p. 174.

The gallant and unfortunate Henry Howard, Earl of Sur-
rey, was unquestionably the most accomplished cavalier of his
time ; and his sonnets display beauties which would do ho-
nour to a more polished age. He was beheaded on Towerhill
in 154*6; a victim to the mean jealousy of Henry VIII., who
could not bear so brilliant a character near his throne.

The song of the supposed bard is founded on an incident
said to have happened to the Earl in his travels. Cornelius
Agrippa, the celebrated alchemist, shewed him, in a looking-
glass, the lovely Geraldine, to whose service he had devoted
his pen and his sword. The vision represented her as indis-
posed, and reclined upon a couch, reading her lovers verses
by the light of a waxen taper.

The storm-swept Orcades ;

Where erst St Clairs held princely sway^
Cfer isle and iskt^ strait and bay. — St. XXI. p. 179-
The St Clairs are of Norman extraction, being descended
from William de St Clair, second son of Waldeme Compte
de St Clair, and Margaret, daughter to Richard Duke of Nor-
mandy. He was called, for his fair deportment, the Seemly St
Clair, and settling in Scotland during the reign of Malcolm

308

Ceanmore, obtained large grants of land in Mid-Lothian.
These domains were increased by the liberality of succeeding
monarchs, to the descendants of the family, and comprehend-
ed the baronies of Rosline, Pentland, Cowsland, Cardaine, and
several others. It is said a large addition was obtained from
Robert Bruce on the following occasion. The king, in follow-
ing the chace upon the Pentland hills, had often started a
*^ white faunch deer," which had always escaped from his
hounds; and he asked the nobles, who were assembled around
him, whether any of them had dogs which they thought might
be more successful. No courtier would affirm that his hounds
were fleeter than those of the king, until Sir William St Clair
of Rosline unceremoniously said, he would wager his head that
his two favourite dogs, ** Help and Hold,*' would kill the deer
before she could cross the March-burn. The king instantly
caught at his unwary oflFer, and betted the forest of Pentland-
moor against the life of Sir William^ St Clair. All the. hounds
were tied up, except a few ratches, or slow-hounds, to put up the
deer; while Sir William St Clair posting himself in the best si-
tuation for slipping his dogs, prayed devoutly to Christ, the
blessed Virgin, and St Katherine. The deer was shortly after
roused, and the hounds slipped ; Sir William following on a gal-
lant steed, to cheer his dogs. The hind, however, reached the
middle of the brook, upon which the hunter threw himself from
his horse in despair. At this critical moment, however, Hold
stopped her in the brook ; and Help coming up, turned her
back, and killed her on Sir William's side. The king, descend-
ing from the hill, embraced Sir William, and bestowed on him

309

the lands of Kirkton, Loganhoiise, Eamcraig, &c. in free fo*
restrie. Sir William, in acknowledgment of Saint Katherine's
intercession, built the chapel of St Katherine in the Hopes,
the churchyard of which is still to be seen. The hill, from
which Robert Bruce beheld this memorable chace, is still call-
ed the King's Hill, and the place where Sir William hunted is
called the Knight's Field ♦. — MS. History of the Family of St
Clair^ hy Richaed Augustin Hay, Canon of St Genevieve.

This adventurous huntsman married Elizabeth, daughter of
Malice Spar, Earl of Orkney and Stratheme, in whose right
their son Henry was, in 137.9, created Earl of Orkney, by
Haco, king of Norway. His title was recognised by the
kings of Scotland, and remained with his successors until
it was annexed to the crown, in l^Tl, by act of parliament.
In exchange for this earldom, the castle and domains of Ra-
%'enscraig, or Ravensheuch, were conferred on William Saint-
clair. Earl of Caithness.

* The tomb of Sir William St Clair^ on which he appears sculptured in ar-
mour^ with a greyhound at his feet^ is still to be seen in Roslin chapel. The
person who shews it always tells the story of his hunting-match^ with some ad-
dition to Mr Hay's account ; as that the knight of Rosline's fright made him
poetical^ and tbat^ in the last emergency^ he shouted.

Help, hand, an' ye may.

Or Rosline will lose his head this day.

If this couplet does him no great honour as a poet, the conclusion of the story
does him still less credit. He set his foot on the dog, says the narrator, and
killed him on the spot, saying, he would never again put his neck in such a
risque. As Mr Hay does not mention this circumstance, I hope it is ' only
founded on the couchant posture of the hound on the monument.

310

Stil nods their palace to its/all^

Thy pride and sorrow^ fair Kirkwall. — St. XXI. p. 179.

The castle of Kirkwall was built by the St Clairs, while Earls
of Orkney. It was dismantled by the Earl of Caithness about
1615, having been garrisoned against the government by Ro-
bert Stewart, natural son to the Earl of Orkney.

Its ruins afforded a sad subject of contemplation to John,
Master of St Clair, who, flying from his native country, on
account of his share in the insurrection 1715, made some stay
at Kirkwall.

^^ I had occasion to entertain myself at Kirkwall with the
melancholic prospect of the ruins of an old castle, the seat of
the old Earls of Orkney, my ancestors ; and of a more melan-
choly reflection, of so great and noble an estate as the Orkney
and Shetland isles being takne from one of them by James the
third for faultrie, after his brother Alexander, Duke of Albany^
had married a daughter of my family, and for protecting and
defending the said Alexander against the king, who wished to
kill him as he had done his youngest brother, the Earl of Mar;
and for which, after the forfaultrie, he gratefully divorced my
forfaulted ancestor's sister. Though I cannot persuade myself
that he had any misalliance to plead against a familie in whose
veins the blood of Robert Bruce run as fresh as in his own ;
for their title to the crowne was by a daughter of David
Bruce, son to Robert ; and our alliaunce was by marrying a
grandchild of the same Robert Bruce, and daughter to the
sister of the same David, out of the familie of Douglass, which
at that time did not much sullie the blood, more than my an-

311

cestours having not long before had the honour of marrying a
daughter of the king of Denmark's, who was named Floren-
tine, and has left in the town of Kirkwall a noble monument
of the grandeur of the times^ the finest church ever I saw en-
tire in Scotland. I then had no small reason to think, in that
unhappy state, on the many not inconsiderable services ren-
dered since to the royal familie, for these many years by-gone,
on all occasions, when they stood most in need of friends,
which they have thought themselves very often obliged to
acknowledge by letters yet extant, and in a stile more like
friends than souveraigns ; our attachment to them, without
anie other thanks, having brought upon us considerable losses,
and, among others, that of our all in Cromwell's time ; and
left in that condition, without the least relief except what we
found in our own virtue. My father was the onlie man of the
Scots nation who had courage enough to protest in parliament
against King William's title to the throne, which was lost, God
knows how : and this at a time when the losses in the cause of
the royall familie, and their usual gratitude, had scarce lefl him
bread to maintain a numerous familie of eleven children, who
had soon after sprung up on him, in spite of all which he had
honorably persisted in his principle. I say, these things con-
sidered, and after being treated as I was, and in that unluckie
state, when objects appear to men in their tnie light, as at the
hour of death, could I be blamed for makeing some bitter re-
flections to myself, and laughing at the extravagance and un-
accountable humour of men, and the singularitie of my own
case (an exile for the cause of the Stuart family), when I ought

312

to have known, that the greatest crime I, or my fkmily, could
have committed, was persevering, to my own destruction, in
serving the royal familie faithfully, though obstinately, after so
great a share of depression, and after they had been pleased
to doom me and my familie to starve/'— iliS. Memoirs ofJohn^
Master of St Clair.

Kings of the main^ their leaders braDCj

Their barks, the dragons of the wave. — St. XXII. p. 180.
The chiefs of the Vikingr, or Scandinavian pirates, assu-
med the title of Scekonungr, or Sea-kings. Ships, in the in-
flated language of the Scalds, are often termed the serpents of
the ocean.

Of that sea-snakej tremendous curled.

Whose monstrous circle girds the world. — St. XXII. p. 180.
The jormungandr, or snake of the ocean, whose folds sur-
round the earth, is one of the wildest fictions of the Edda. It
was very nearly caught by the god Thor, who went to fish for
it with a hook baited with a bulFs head» In the battle betwixt
the evil daemons and the divinities of Odin, which is to pre-
cede the Ragnarockry or Twilight of the Gods, this snake is to
act a conspicuous part.

Of those dread maids j whose hideous yell
Maddens the battles bloody swell. — ^St. XXII. p. 181.
These were the Valkyriur, or Selecters of the Slain, dis-
patched by Odin from Valhalla, to choose those who were to

S13

die, and to distribute the contest. They are well-known to the
English reader as Gray s Fatal Sisters.

Ransacked the graves of warriors oldy

Their faulchions zvrenched from corpses* hold.

St. XXIL p. 181.
The northern warriors were usually entombed with their
arms, and their other treasures. Thus Angantyr, before com-
mencing the duel in which he was slain, stipulated, that if he
fell, his sword Tirfyng should be buried with him. His daugh-
ter, Hervor, afterwards took it from his tomb. The dialogue
which past betwixt her and Angantyr's spirit on this occasion
has been often translated^ The whole history may be found
in the Hervarar-Saga. Indeed the ghosts of the northem war-
riors were not wont tamely to suffer their tombs to be plun-
dered ; and hence the mortal heroes had an additional temp-
tation to attempt such adventures ; for they held nothing more
worthy of their valour than to encounter supematural beings.
Bartholinus De causis contempts a Dams mortis^ Lib. L
cap. 2. 9- 10. 13.

Rosabelle.—St. XXIII. p. 181.

This was a family name in the house of St Clair. Henry
St Clair, the second of the line, married Rosabelle, fourth
daughter of the Earl of Stratheme.

Castle Raoensheuch. — St. XXIII. p. 182.

A large and strong castle, now ruinous, situated betwixt

2 R

314

Kirkaldy and Dysart, on a steep crag, washed by the Firth of
Forth. It was conferred on Sir William St Clair, as a slight
compensation for the earldom of Orkney, by a charter of King
James III. dated in 1471^ and is now the property of Sir James
St Clair Erskine, representative of the family. It was long a
principal residence of the Barons of Roslin.

Seemed all onjire that chapel proudj
Where Roslins chiefs uncoffined lie;

Each Baron J for a sable shroud.

Sheathed in his iron panoply. — St. XXIII. p. 183.
The beautiful chapel of Roslin is still in tolerable preserva-
tion. It was founded in 1446 by William St Clair, Prince of
Orkney, Duke of Oldenbourgh, Earl of Cathnes and Strath-
eme, Lord Saint Clair, Lord Niddesdale, Lord Admiral of the
Scottish seas, Lord Chief Justice of Scotland, Lord Warden
of the three marches, Baron of Roslin, Pentland, Pentland-
moor, &c.. Knight of the Cockle and of the Garter (as is af*
firmed). High Chancellor, Chamberlain, and Lieutenant of
Scotland. This lofty person, whose titles, says Godscroft,
might weary a Spaniard, built the castle of Roslin, where he
resided in princely splendour, and founded the chapel, which
is in the most rich and florid stile of Gothic architecture. A-
mong the profuse carving on the pillars and buttresses, the rose
is frequently introduced in allusion to the name, with which,
however, the flower has no connection ; the etymology being
Ross-linnhe, the promontory of the lin, or water-fall. The

315

chapel is said to appear on fire previous to the deadi of any
of his descendants. This superstition, noticed by Slezer in his
Theatrum Scotir.y and alluded to in the text, is probably of
Norwegian derivation, and may have been imported by the
Earls of Orkney into their Lothian domains. The tomb-fires
of the north are mentioned in most of the Sagas.

The Barons of Roslin were buried in a vault beneath the
chapel floor. The manner of their interment is thus described
by Father Hay, in the MS. history already quoted.

" Sir William Sinclair, the father, was a leud man. He kept
a miller's daughter, with whom it is alleged he went to Ire-
land ; yet I think the cause of his retreat was rather occasion-
ed by the Presbyterians, who vexed him sadly, becaustje of his
religion being Roman Catholic. His son. Sir William, died
during the troubles, a/id was interred in the chapel of Roshn
the very same day that the battle of Dunbar was fought.
When my goodfather was buried, his {i. e. Sir William's) corpse
seemed to be entire at the opening of the cave ; but when they
came to touch his body, it fell into dust. He was laying in
his armour with a red velvet cap on his head, on a flat stone ;
nothing was spoiled except a small piece of the white furring,
that went round the cap, and answered to the hinder part of
the head. All his predecessors were buried after the same
manner in their armour: late Rosline, my father, was the first
that was buried in a coffin, against the sentiments of King
James the Seventh, who was then in Scotland, and several
other persons well versed in antiquity, to whom my mother

316

would not hearken, thinking it beggarly to be buried after that
manner. The great expences she was at in burying her hus-
band, occasioned the sumptuary acts which were made in the
following parliamente.''

Gylbin, come T— St. XXVIL p. 187.

See the story of Gilpin Horner, p. 243.

For he was speechless^ ghastly^ wauy

Like him of whom the story ran^

Who spoke the spectre^hound in Man. — St. XXVII. p. 187.
The ancient castle of Peel-town, in the Isle of Man, is sur-
rounded by four churches, now ruinous. Through one of
these chapels there was formerly a passage from the guard-
room of the garrison. This was closed, it is said, upon the
following occasion : ^^ They say that an apparition, called, in
the Mankish language, the Mauthe Doog^ in the shape of a
large black spaniel, with curled shaggy hair, was used to haunt
Peel-castle ; and has been frequently seen in every room, but
particularly in the guard-chamber, where, as soon as candles
were lighted, it came and lay down before the fire, in presence
of all the soldiers, who, at length, by being so much accuse,
tomed to the sight of it, lost great part of the terror they were
seized with at its first appearance. They still, however, re-
tained a certain awe, as believing it was an evil spirit, which
only waited permission to do them hurt ; and for that reason

517

forebore swearing, and all prophane discourse^ while in its
company. But though they endured the shock of such a
guest when all together in a body, none cared to be left alone
with it ; it being the custom, therefore, for one of the soldiers
to lock the gates of the castle at a certain hour, and carry the
keys to the Captain, to whose apartment, as I said before, the
way led through the church, they agreed among themselves,
that whoever was to succeed the ensuing night his fellow in
this errand, should accompany him that went first, and by
this means no man would be exposed singly to the danger :
for I forgot to mention, that the Mauthe Doog was always seen
to come out from that passage at the close of day, and return
to it again as soon as the morning dawned ; which made them
look on this place as its peculiar residence.

" One night a fellow being drunk, and by the strength of
his liquor rendered more daring than ordinarily, laughed at
the simplicity of his companions ; and though it was not his
turn to go with the keys, would needs take that office upon
him, to testify his courage. All the soldiers endeavoured to
dissuade him ; but the more they said» the more resolute he
seemed, and swore that he desired nothing more than that
Mauthe Doog would follow him, as it had done the others ;
for he would try if it were dog or devil. After having talked
in a very reprobate manner for some time, he snatched up the
keys, and went out of the guard-room ; in some time after his
departure, a great noise was heard, but nobody had the bold*
nesa to see what occasioned it, till the adventurer returning^

S18

they demanded*the knowledge of him ; but as loud and noisy
as he had been at leaving them, he was now become sober
and silent enough ; for he was never heard to speak more :
and though all the time he lived, which was three days, he
was entreated by all who came near him, either to speak, or,
if he could not do that, to make some signs, by which they
might understand what had happened to him ; yet nothing
intelligible could be got from him, only that, by the distor-
tion of his limbs and features, it might be guessed that he
died in agonies more than is common in a natural death.

" The Mauthe Doog was, however, never after seen in the
castle, nor would any one attempt to go through that pas-
sage ; for which reason it was closed up, and another way
made. This accident happened about threescore years since ;
and I heard it attested by several, but especially by an old
soldier, who assured me he had seen it oftener than he had
then hairs on his head. Waldron's Description of the Isle of
Mauj p. 107.

And he a solemn sacred plight

Bid to St Bryde of Douglas make. St, XXVIIL p. 188.
This was a favourite saint of the house of Douglas, and of
the Earl of Angus in particular; as we learn from the follow-
ing passage : The Queen-regent had proposed to raise a rival
noble to the ducal dignity ; and discoursing of her purpose
with Angus, he answered, " Why not. Madam ; we are happy
that have such a princess, that can know and will acknowledge

319

men's service, and is willing to recompence it: But, by the
might of God (this was his oath when he was serious and in
anger ; at other times, it was by Saint Bride of Douglas), if
he be a Duke, I will be a Drake !'' So she desisted from pro-
secuting of that purpose/' Godscroft, vol. ii. p. 131.

THE END,

EDINBURGH:
Printed by Jaxss Ballantyne.

ERRATA.

Page 14. line 1 1 . For sigh re€id flowen

Page £4. line 8. For who read which.

Page 5 1 . line 4. For to-day read to day.

Page ItH. liae 15. For recussus read recessus.

Page 176. line 3. from bottom. For high read hight. ,

Page 198. line lO. in a very few copies. For wonder read wandier..

Page 315. line 4. from bottom. For my father read my good-father;.

-.V

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Full text of "The Lay of the Last Minstrel: A Poem."

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